One has no dreams in afternoons
Only day mares, belly fish of fears
Wrought into heavy-lidded sleep,
Mares ,not being equine animals
Of diurnal type but the belly ones
Where you enact fearful plot lines.
Story is scripted by a ghost writer
Of random ghoulish department.
Everything is random but stitched
Neatly together like by a pro hack,
A belly fear knotted to a taut plot.