dreaming in carnage

I dream of guns
of blood on gnarled hands
hollow eyes in a face of grey
the bodies of loved ones
dead where they're found
statues where life once breathed
before he turns the gun on himself

wake up...
breathe in...
breath out...
close eyes...
fall...

The gate is open again
someone forgot to lock it
not me
never me
last time someone bought her back
no cars stop this time
and a screech of tyres
wipe out his tiny body
and in an instant
there is less sunshine in the world
and nothing can replace
what is gone

tears on the pillow...
get up...
make sure he's still there... (he is)
make sure he's still breathing... (chest rising and falling)
he laughs in his sleep...
breathe...
smile...
lie down...
close eyes...
fall...

My lover brings another lover home
tells me to be fine with it
like I can compete with
the porn star fantasy
looking down at me
with a body so right
it makes me feel wrong
like maybe I would hate myself less
if I could cut away the parts of me
society deems unlovable and unfuckable

(Conscious me knows he loves me
beyond the reach of society's expectations
of virtuous wife in the kitchen
and secret whore in the bedroom
but it makes the vision no less painful
as she straddles his naked hips
and rides him while I can do nothing
but watch helpless and hopeless and ugly)

cut scene...
wake up...
scream into my pillow...
message my lover...
wait for the reply that says "I love you"...
take a valium and try to forget these fears
that won't let me sleep