Tic, tac, and we move
to that place of lesser resistance,
where inertia rests,
and there is no danger.
Places with our names written on them.
We think they are the things we love,
our lullabies.
But dreams chase us,
they wear costumes,
they call us “ liar ”, “coward”.
They shout our misery.
They are beasts waiting
for their freedom
or their banquet
under our pillows