Strange Thoughts

I have strange thoughts
In the moments preceding sleep.
Usually I forget these thoughts
While I dream, then
I forget the dreams too.

But now I am stuck in transition
Between wake and sleep.
I am awake enough to think
And remember my thoughts;
But so close to sleep,
That the thoughts are
The strange kind.

Thoughts I find it hard
To even put into words.
They are thoughts of love
And doubt, peace and confusion,
Of fear and a strange, sadistic joy.

I see images, strange images,
Of death; sometimes my own.
I see myself as a hero,
Running into traffic to save someone,
Only to be struck down after my deed
Is done.

I see love, and its end.
I can see the tears in her eyes,
And hear the tremor in her voice
As she tells me its over.

I see myself: a cold-blooded killer.
I can feel it. The chill courcing
Through my heart and veins.
I can feel my weapon of choice,
I can see where I will strike,
I can imagine the perfect kill.

I wish I could sleep, and dream,
And forget it all.