'Tis late at night, or early morn;
I'd slept tonight - the first in days,
When, in my catatonic haze,
An image from my mind was born:
She lives! A zombie, hollow-eyed,
Dull face, matte coat, mane like a nest.
She tears the arrow through her chest;
Internal organs flow outside.
She turns to me with trademark smile;
Says, "Come and join me, Egghead!" Then
She laughs, turns back, walks into fen,
Therein dissolves in substance vile --
And with a jolt I then return'd
To consciousness. I guess I'll stay
Awake tonight, or sleep at day,
'Til my mind clears its image burn'd.