I believe you should suffer in life.
To solidify it, make it solid,
Real.
Even in your sleep.
And even in your dreams
You should dream of knifes and of guns
Pointed square at your heart
The sound of the gun clocking back
The rush of the knife slicing your skin
Should be as painful and drawn out
As when you awake in the morning,
Patting your bed for liquids
Checking your sheets for the blood stains
You could have sworn would be there and
Are bewildered they aren’t.
Even in the sleep where
Your body and mind
Still let you act like a child
With your puckering lips,
Grasping fingers,
Inaudible grumbles,  
Droll dripping onto your pillow,
Should then be invaded by
Dreams of that knife and of that gun
That makes you wet the bed
Where there should be blood.