the ghosts

the cheshire cat whispers to the shadows, its moon breath creeps through cracks in doors,
tip-toes across wooden floors, and dances across your sleeping face,
tangling its spider legs in your unruly hair.
i sleepwalk through the dark hallways, running my fingertips over the chipped walls,
mumbling a forgotten tune.
the ghosts with sharp teeth and bleeding eyes float along the floor, grabbing at my fractured ankles,
hoping for me to lose my footing and sink ever deeper into their sinister imprisonments,
where they will suck my blood and sew buttons into my eyes.