dreaming to death
to not think of death
would be a lie
the way in which
turning on my imagination
—the top ten ways
repeating in a dream
each one worse than the next
in the middle of the night
I awake in a panic
the knife at my neck
the blade facing the other way
turn it turn it I say
please end it now
the villain dressed in black
wearing a half mask
eyes colorless
presence odorless
the voice as familiar as my own
emotionlessly saying
no this is far too easy
I believe I’ll let you live
to tell the tale
yet another day
june two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
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