Between wake and sleep....

Would that I ,
in an apocalyptic
waking of the self,
wondering, rub my eyes,
erase crow's feet,
un-furrow the frowns,
straighten some smiles,
banish ghosts of yesteryears,
touch her eye-lids
to wish her a dream ?
And will I then,
quietly skulk away,
back and beyond,
to the darkling abyss
of a Hadian incubus
where, like it or not,
a vermillion dot
looks so much like
a bullet's red full stop ?