The Dream

I've seen a dream
with my eyes open
of my death, in crimson dusk
in violet rage.

On a rod of iron
my carcass decays
mirrored visions
in twisted delay
ravens flocking
they've come to pray
and rip and feast
as vultures glare.

The sky ignites
an angel appears
A red dot glows
not far from here
engulfed in black
biting my skin
the mountains behind
have fallen grim.

A heavy fog invades
the sounds of the supper
inhumane
orange they glow
in velvet silk
screaming out my name
punish me still.

I see but I'm free
to view my death
from anywhere I please
above me, below
beside and inside
I feel that carcass's pain
his thoughts, his fears.

But I choose to sit
in a corner in tears
I hate it because it is death
that my wishes truly endear.