Merely Dreams

My dreams lie with Persephone,
a stream of wishes;
Wishes strung true and carved,
to crystal black throne.
The artistic impression of my lusts,
stripped, lashed and starved,
essences long gone in disgust.

In a forest of tears,
I stride amongst the fallen leaves
and ride the unicorn of fears.
Night wraiths descend from deceiving skies,
kissing and killing with their scythes,
My lips now stained with the venom
of a dead and lonely ghost,
This body bearing, for I am Legion's host.

Sixty thorns,
I plucked from my heart,
The ever boredom depression art.
Though I allowed my sting,
when I slept and wept in roses;
beds snide and deadly;
Dreaming myself a handsome king,
sticking my business in other noses.

Dreams and wishes are not for me,
Though I wish to drown
In the lovely, fantasy sea.
Wear a golden crown,
illuminating the dark banshee,
And lost to a maze,
Dead and in my daze,
Wear death does not shred my art,
And the sun stays for several days.

No, dreams are not for me,
No, wishes are not for me.
Forever will I be,
In this unrelenting reality,
free from the want of my beloved fantasy.