Sweet Nightmares

I slowly sit, upon my throne,
Of jade and ice and crafted stone,
I take my staff within my hand,
As I gaze out, across the land.

I sprinkle magyck sandman dust,
Not gold, no, black, as dark as lust,
I send them clouds of lashing rain,
So they can play the darkest game.

I blow them kisses on the neck,
Incise, precise, serrated peck,
I bless them with a blaze of light,
To guide the daemons through the night.

I shed my skin and slither, cold,
Through faerytales, left untold,
I lace pure fright within their prayers,
And call out, "Angels, sweet nightmares."