dad and bro - dream

In a dream I sat in calm, quiet gloom,

nearly startled to hear my brother say

from behind a door into my bedroom

in such a maliciously mocking way

our father was dead, he'd killed him today,

sent him to the fate for which he was doomed.

Not a second passed for my weary eyes

to analyze yet a word he'd spoken,

not a second yet for any my cries,

before the door's hinges were then broken.

He had gleefully thrown open the door,

letting our father's body topple in,

and he told me, "Look now, he's dead for sure!

There'll be no more of that stupid grin!"

And I saw the severed back of his head

bloody and perverse, sliding to my feet,

and I sat transfixed and trembling with dread

too petrified to rise now from my seat.

But my mad brother called to me again,

And I rose slowly, silently, softly

supressing fearful screams crying hotly,

and came to my brother calmly again.

He said nothing else of what he had done,

but insisted I weep on his shoulder,

to rid myself of the mourning that'd come,

which I must hide, and simply grow colder.

A phone ring woke me from my sad nightmare,

and I answered to hear my brother speak,

informing me he'd drive me home today,

because our father was feeling too weak.