Clammy And Spent, Death Has Climbed Off Me

So many dead bodies have climbed up on and down off me where my head rests it is wet there and clammy. The smell of it when plunging deep into sleep feeling by the depth I can taste what I see as it appeared in my dream. The \./ I can see, it can not see me other's rested here in death is a dream a dream few have shared. Low in may lay and while humid it's hot I can't catch my breath while the red chili hot peppers down my neck they have traveled. Dead not in death though through the living there not as one after another they climb up and get off.