Entry Into Catalepsy
by Robert Paul Gass (aka Imagines Vinco aka Ultionem Vinco)
The sophist claimed the astral plane was pure
Fantastic lies as pilfered citified
The Greeks beguiled by talk believed their cure
Was sleep to cut their cords and daughters cried.
Somnambulism's nightingale is stark
to sing in patterns walking lost despairs
Enclosed in hellish black displays to mark
The soul with numbers fearing imps on mares.
The baby devils crying vortex souls
To drain their torture cells beneath the age
Of one to holes for all the hated foals
As drawn and quartered nostrils flare in cage.
The sleep as queen of night to bring the bat
And empty souls of screams for spiral mat.
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