For there're phantoms that will misdemean
Albeit faux, or fake, they are; subconscious
From another place, like a catalyst pontious
In the, wide awake, they will cause no harm
For it's where they, can't exist, if life is calm
So they'll wait awhile, until it's time to share
From the deepest recess, of their nightmare
In thrall to night terrors, they'll eke neurosis
Replacing, rationality, with cerebral necrosis
They're a trauma mire, and they fear; naught
Unless they are finally met, by an oneironaut
Ghosts are real, but they sleep with the dead
Until they are roused, and to a night hag wed
For their see is dark, daylight is not their way
As they haunt, their prey, into a chimera-fray
They scare, the unwary, and lasciviously troll
Ghostmares of the dire, with darkness cajole
Until they're confronted, by a lucidity spinner
If an oneironaut resists, the illusion is dimmer
The unreal becomes real, in a mind disturbed
Manias mirages, from the sublime, to absurd
But they are there, the Oneironauts & Ghosts
The lucid etherealistic, of subliminal outposts








