In my dreams I saw myself
clad in metal armour.
In my dreams I was prepared
for an inevitable attack.

I was brave, I was chivalrous.
She came from behind,
but yet I was ready
to defeat the beast in question.

She looked oddly familiar,
like someone I see in a mirror.
But in her black-hole eyes I saw
the nasty thoughts she thought.

She had scars all over her arms,
thin, silver little lines.
She was emaciated, pale,
unhealthy

but her strength rang like alarm bells
that penetrated my body in a vibration.
She lunged at me
and threw herself on me.

Somehow I'd managed to grab my sword,
and I soon held her body-less head in my hands
by her hair. I felt its coarse blackness,
and the stickiness of her blood.

But when I woke up, no severed head was to be found.
I looked at my arms, I felt my face, I heard my suicidal thoughts.
I thought maybe the beast's ghost had sunk into me.

But the truth is, she never was a separate entity to begin with.