Hannarabius

We're diving down. We're diving down.I had a pet riddle I opened up and spent the day looking for. There's insanity all over the place.There's a small ceramic house I keep by the bed stand. There's small, ceramic people that live in it. The father comes out nightly for water from the cup I keep on my bedside.In the days the ceramic family pick bails of lint from the carpet. It's a textile economy on my bed stand.The women of the house make lint dresses, jeans, nightgowns, t-shirt, gloves, mittens, hats, parasols, and on and on.On Saturdays the family makes there way out the window and down the drain pipe to sell their wares to the local ceramic people at the ceramic farmer's market in the ceramic Zen garden my neighbor has out on her porch.Ceramic fish sandwiches and chips are served to all the patrons as they browse through ceramic wines, apples, pears, peaches, tulips, and on and on.There's a ceramic man named Bud who plays auctioneer for ceramic hogs and horses.Saturday night the family returns up the drain pipe and retires to their ceramic beds.But, there's ceramic nightmares. Large intestinal figures of misshapen form. Ceramic monsters created by a drunk on a broken wheel.The monsters move at night and coil themselves around the legs of my bed and mewl and wine until they are fed.They feed on chips of wood I keep in a bowl next to the bed. Once fed, they slither out the window and down into the courtyard and haunt the animals down there.When a full moon comes the nightmares feed on the ceramic flesh of the others. A ceramic child is sacrificed each month on my bed stand while I sleep.I wake up sweating to ceramic families in shock as they watch ceramic nightmares slowly break apart a ceramic child and gorge on the ceramic bits and pieces.I guess I could do something, but they're only ceramics.