Dreamcatcher, can’t catch the threads of her hair
or the angry and distant look in her eye.
The lines drawn to paradise and sweetness
are death and life their on her thigh.
In my bed, dreams come unbidden, the desire
to be cut by her wire wings, sweet pain!
The dark eyes that are not the light of the moon,
or the washed out color of a winter rain.
Just a trinket, no magic, nothing can stop the dreams.
What you want is The Devil whispering in your ear.
Dream to dream, lust to lust, something to love
as the sun grows colder and stars dimmer every year.