red telephone

i woke alone

in a mansion on a hill;

across the room: a red telephone. mouth was dry

i felt i'd been asleep for years. i turned and i discovered then the sum of all my fears. what have i become?

what have i become?

through the glass

the clouds were dark and harbored rain;

the land below grey and vast. and through the mist

i saw the fields were flush with graves

and each headstone was etched with lies discrediting the brave. son

imitate death's true face;

for who and what and why'd they have to die?

someone wake me up!