The Ghosts of the Ancestors

Drifting off to sleep, our dreams are safe,
That nausea comes back just as we close our eyes,
Down, Down, Down, into the depths of our soul,
Reaching out for the destination, it crawls away,
Submerging our hides in the liquidity of the dream,
Sticky and dark, perish we may, but not for us to tell,
Give of ourselves to take on the demons of correxion,

Running, ducking, leaping, killing.

This beast controls what we used to be to each other,
Many forms and functions, almost an ecosystem itself,
We cut and tear through pain the enemy has caused,
They are shadows of past transgressions come alive,
Slicing and ripping apart the skulls of the specter,
Claiming them as trophies, but the rest are angered,
Surrounded, we stand our ground and brace for attack,

Awakened by confrontation, its a snap back to reality?