When we are asleep in this world, we are awake in another

When we slumber in this realm,

We awake in one even more insane.

A paradoxical existence, where the jackalope roams,

A solitary creature, like the lost soul.

It stalks through the night, under the blood-red moon,

Seeking out victims, for it hungers for blood.

It's antlers tremble with anticipation,

Waiting to drown in fleshy interior.

It spots its prey, target locked,

The lost soul, just awoken.

Tonight they're out of luck,

Tonight they nightmares dream.