Reoccur

I have warm, wet, tense hands in my dream,
my teeth fall out,
The world is a steep set of stairs I perpetually crawl

I am running from you
You are gaining on me,

gathering space in nightmare folds,

(my voice doesn't work, I am stroking)!

I remember,
I can fly the fuck out of here,
So I rise up, up, and it's usually a grey night with little light,
And sometimes I see city tops, wires,
Mountains and fields,
Willpower is my helium, rising higher,
I travel where brief thoughts place my path-

Then apprehension grows, I sense the height in fear,
Decide,  getting too high,
Better fly downward,
Land away from the boogey man...

I can't fly down! I fall instead.
Gaining speed in a
free
fall

I land awake, dead, kicking alive.

This dream happens all the time.