A Victim's Dream

A question, a lion, a timid demand shot through time,
to wander, refusing reality.
A road to dine on: can pertinent greed really rhyme?

Fingers made of sand, a solid grip to my surprise,
to squeeze nearly unending;
in the hate of the moment I think I see love in your eyes.

A beating, a prophet, a pristine preserved emotion,
to force the rain's hand.
You want me, you teach me, in a crimson ocean.

Bruises on my throat, lies: kings in my pocket
to deny power's pause.
A blade of grass in a desert is brave but can't commit.

Celebration, inebriation, walking on the wind
to collect splintered hope.
I'm lost because of you, lost without you;
I need lithium, I want a rope.