Dreams are too cruel,

they either wake you after the chase,

when short

of breathe and the object of your anguish

slides into the shadows, the laughter of a thousand

screaming nightmares rebounding billiard ball like

against the empty echo that the cushion

over the mouth to stop your own petrified scream

is happy to assist with, even going as far

to enjoy the muffled choke of terror

that the dreams provide it, like food,

sustenance, the pork chop in gravy

to keep its own part in the play fresh and required…