I’ve dreamt I’ve dreamt I’ve dreamt I’ve dreamt
for a life surrounded by timbers, and the swaying green leaves
Of a forest in the north, with clouds made of bale and rain that
Pitter patters all over the place, tip-toeing when I’m asleep and
Lashing the ground when I’m awake. And lakes and rivers and
Puddles of water and mud and blood; the blood of honest men,
So I can throw a pebble and watch it bounce off the water,
Carefree, forever-
The dream of every ten year old on a boring family holiday.

I’ve dreamt I’ve dreamt I’ve dreamt I’ve dreamt
Of hot-headed angels, with their callousness and general
Disdain for humanity. Oh they look at us so! With their clean
Airbrushed wings and spotless white they point at us and
Laugh at us. We! Creations of mud and clay! But being created out of
Light is overrated; it’s ghastly. I can wank, and curse, and spew
Bile – but can they? I’ve dreamt of them and I’ve waited for them –
Waited for them to come for me.

I’ve dreamed I’ve dreamed I’ve dreamed I’ve dreamed
Of death under a sky full of lights, and of life under stones,
With water seeping into my clothes, while an angry magister
Bellows god’s will in my ears.

-this is life.
And when it’ll come is beyond me.