The fickle feeling of flesh, watching it rot with eyes open.

But when they’re shut, we may live on forever.

The trials of age fade, our bodies slow while our minds pick up.

Missing limbs reclaimed, lost lovers rise from the void

The ability to make a wish come true… for a time.

Until either the eyes pry themselves open again,

Or the terror sets in.

We may be released from our dream, or be plunged into flame.

To again see what has corrupted our short time.

Watching as our fantasies become reminders of why nothing will last.