An illusion of allusion

Watching the lane of nightmares
stuck in a pit in the ceiling
not quite upside down
but down, down
downside

nonesense has gotten its upper hand;
ghostly white
unpilling itself on my pillow.

Some will steal the black of your eyes
some will steal your earbuds
from your sleep
some will steal the way
some will steal themselves from
under the bed sheets.

And there are no understandings
nor formality
between myself and I
when the moon blinks
for a second
closing my eyes.