Falling between
what is and never was
in dreams
we plunge through
the light, the hate of recollection
And all the things
Which should have stayed
here, should have stayed dreams.
I dreamt there was a king before me –
you dreamt the same, no lies –
He smiled at me, the king
with black and rotting teeth
Which feature I praised him for;
The smile grew as I lied –
whereupon I pulled
That red and twisting heart
out of his chest, whereupon, I say,
He died.
I thought to eat the heart
but it left me, with the dream.
Reminds of some of the poems from Stephen Crane's "The Black Riders and Other Lines."