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I often wonder what she would say
if I told her of my dreams.
The haunted, ripping, tearing dreams
that soak me in blood...
but when I awake, it's only my own sweat...
those dreams dripping in terror and weird music
that make me afraid to close my eyes
that make me dread the falling veil of sleep
that make me cry when I realize
it's her holding the gun...

9 June 2000