Thursday Sonnet: Dreams that die

‘Dreams that die.’ As corny as they are,
A poet must respect the cards he’s dealt.
So here we go: of dreams I’ll go as far
As to affirm that they have lives, and melt
Into their gloomy nights when hours come tight.
I mean, of course they’d melt 'in night' – they’re dreams!
Of dreams that die in night. Or dye the night.
I’m sure that there’s a pun in there which screams
To be ejaculated (for that matter,
There’s one in any phrase that throws the term
‘Ejaculated’), but I’ve just a splutter
Of wit left to ejaculate – like sperm
(Could. Not. Resist). ‘Of dreams that die.’ You might tear
My balls off too: this theme’s a fucking nightmare.