A Dream, A Death And Hate

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11 Jan 1995 – This was a dream I had and wrote it down. My dreams were quite complex and very vivid.

I am driving through scorched streets.

Surrounding me,

between deserted plagued buildings,

lie corpses.

Bodies cowardly clinging onto netherworld life.

Their thread, bitter thin,

yet they squeeze the polluted air,

indistinctly breathing.

I am walking now,

attracted by brilliant light,

into a miserable space.

I see a bed curtained by doom,

upon which,

lies a naked design.

I see his chest expand,


he is alive.

His golden hair is draped,


sheltering his desirable face.

His torso remains feeble to my touch.

He is merely a boy.

I filter water over his perfect lips,

just to reach his blistered mouth.

With a motion of his eyelids,

he embraces my form.

He stares for a moment,


He is reaching to touch me,

his hands are cruel, yet convincing.

He is crying,

warm tears of joy.

The darkness has vanished.


30 Nov 1994 – I had a cat named Precious, and she was killed. This is for her.

The earth jumps beneath my tread,

as the scent of fresh slaughter

smothers the sweet aroma of my lily in palm.

The beauty of design, fading fast,

as I glance toward the merciless slaying.

A distant tear swells in my eye,

obscuring my vision,

as I curtsy beside the remains.

It feels like I am living an obnoxious dream,

or fiction evil,

yet through my hazy eyes

beneath my sticky palms,

I can feel the cold corpse.

The demise of a goddess

has left this naked death

an Angel in ruin.

An apparition of-

shall remain

in the heart of my own sorrow.


3 Mar 1995

I sense I am living a solitary mission,

to death;

I do not receive the love pledged,

to heart;

I give all I can in my individual endeavor,

for happiness;

Yet my heart is bruised and abused,

by fraud;

I trust all in return to be trusted,

a lie;

To live this abominable way,

I cry.


22 Mar 1995


I scorn the image before my eyes,

looking not at, but within that picture,

and I despise what I see.

It is thy very existence that summons my inner hatred,

and it is thy masquerade that is malevolent.

Revenge of all evil thy hast commit,

is what I breathe,

is what I live to conquer.

Disgust overwhelms my being

submerging my vivacious nature,

and twisting the facade I see.

I shall place a curse upon thee,

eluding thy existence,

avoiding thy speech,

and mocking the earth upon which thou treads.

I have no mercy for they wicked thoughts,

thy sneering notion,

and insulting portrayal to life so majestic.

It is mere spite,

the reason I act in this monstrous manner;

Spite for all the corruption, and hurt

thy hast caused amongst those I love,

and later respect.



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