Dreaming Of Death Poem by Edna Sweetlove

My night-heart is cold-cruel and deepest black;
The eldritch curtain of the deathly sky
Curselike swathes my gloomy land of hate-dreams.
My soul lies buried in a well of pain,
All hope of love and life dead, empty, void.
My heart and soul stink like the foullest pus
Pouring from the ugly suppurating sore
That is my cancerous hate-filled mind.

My heart beats slowly, I feel it pounding
In my breast, giving hope to my disgust.
My mind revels in its own loathing
Of your vile foulness and deception.
The only reason I can bear to live
Is the prospect of your dire suffering,
When the time is ripe for radiant vengeance,
When I drive hot nails of joy through your eyes.

My tongue cleaves to my palate in semi-sleep
As I dream-relish your death agony.
And when the bleak dawn breaks and I awake
To find you lying there beside me still,
The wind, cold wind, a breath of noisome ice,
Rattles my soul’s windows and chills my heart.
It takes all my strength to hold back my lust
To rip the sleeping throat from your body.