If you can call it dancing.

[jabberwockybite]

Shapes.
Blurry, unfocused shapes.
That I can distort and focus in the blink of an eye.
Shapes dancing on the back of my eyelids
That are inescapable and misshapen .
They distort and return to their shape relentlessly.

Somewhere a bunny lies.
A rabbit outlined by my imagination and now residing in my rugs.
Only a shape, I tell myself.
Only a rug.

A box outlined in light.
Seventy-five whole watts of it.
So we aren’t frightened by the hall’s darkness,
Or the stairs that are just around the corner.
I can’t open that box though, unless to go out…
I fear not the things around me but simply my Imagination
conjuring up a clown or perhaps the Easter bunny.
It likes to toy with me like that. Take advantage of my youth.
I watch the shapes on the back of my eye lids dance.
If you can call it dancing.
They grown immense and shrink before I can stop it.
But what to do?
To close my eyes is not to escape.
It is to return to my childhood fears.

They’re only shapes, I tell myself.
It’s only your Imagination.
Somewhere, a bunny lies, waiting.