Crescent moon, your smile is crooked;
A sneering Cheshire Cat grin.
In this race against time your night overtook her.
Why do you laugh as she falls for these dreams again?
And she falls into the merciless midnight oil:
In these cold fires of the mind she burns.
Like a python, sleep twists around her and coils.
For an escape from reality, she so yearns.
But even so, it still chases her;
Is it possible for these to co-exist?
The line between...