Out From the Drift

The events, that have led you into the drift, remain vague,

Stunned at the absence that crowds you, as a flutter

From the stinging bitterness of the swarming tundra

Causes a twinge, down the seam, of the fragile fabric,

You struggle, with the blurred recollection, violently dragged

Into the listless stray, and abandoned, as you proceed

In solitude, leaving you open to the bleak, still silence

Of a constant stream, afloat, here in this winter desert,

Straining to clarify what’s embedded within the pouring mist,

You slowly crouch, below the constant stream

And notice a crow, perched above, stretching its beak apart,

Expecting it to echo a screech, but this hush stays intact,

Hidden, in the thick darkness hovering atop the contrast

Is the hunter, and you, their paranoid, panicking prey,

Softly, does this stealthy pursuer glide through the desolation

Never losing sight of you, while you wonder inside your rattle,

Trying to discover the path, beneath the iron curtain,

You seek blindly, unaware of the sinking ground

Below the weary traipse, of a lost, rusted anchor,

Amused by your fatigue, the stalker readies the attack,

Tightening the spread, quietly, with precise patience,

Oblivious and still, you follow your own exhalation

To prove to yourself, of your own, beating existence,

It’s time, to challenge the draught, but where is the well,

And now, here I stand, above my fading martyr,

You’ve always lived in the drift, escaping my persistence

For far too long, until this night, when you gazed upon silent death,

Only I can hear its shrill voice, calling to me, my hound,

It’s a pity how memory can fade, and vanish from the freeze,

Finally now, the drift is completely vacant and abandoned,

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Laid to Rest

A tiresome warrior, has finally returned home, unsure

Of how to live outside, of constant deafening chaos,

He softly ventures, through the shrouded solace

With his trusted chaos companion, sheathed at his side,

Gripped, with an unabandoned fury, and haunting paranoia,

There are enemies, all around, in the whistling trees

And the rustling fallen debris, slowly sinking into the dirt,

The horrified soldier, in sight, is the besieging eagle,

Ever watchful, of the cascading embers, dancing

Between the branches, carrying, the snug noose,

Tightly gripping the necks, of all those, lost to battle,

Drumming louder, in the abounding rippling wind

That carries, the ghostly whispers of stranded soldiers,

Blood, burned into his senses, seeing it blanket

The calm solitude of his surroundings, stained,

He slinks down, closer to inferno, trying to distinguish

The subtle shrieks, that are so uncomfortably familiar,

Resounding throughout the petrichor, a place of ease,

Is torturous, all he can envision, is the death soaked battleground

That he crawled through, for he’s still there, crawling,

Or at least, his mind is, entrapped by the chaos,

Pounding steel agaisnt steel, dauntingly reverberating,

Bringing him down to his knees, a moment running parallel,

Explosions of birds chirping, and red sunlight sprays,

He lays, in the fragments, of loose branches, and shrapnel leaves,

He has never vacated the field, on which so many perished

By the mighty swing, of his notched battleaxe,

After all he has done, he slowly slips into darkness alone

In the calming caress of nature, while every ounce of misery

He dealt, is plunged into him, unable to withstand the agony,

Nature notices his torment, bestows pity upon the suffering,

Grows its roots, into a concentration, of sweet embrace,

His pulse steadies a bit, his sight clears from the shadows,

And can finally see, the pleasant tranquil brushstrokes,

Everything is composed, as he feels it all dissolve,

He shuts his eyes, and becomes nature, forever dormant.

A Lost Tale’s End

A rushing bitter wind, that does not cease, pushes

All throughout the barren forest, with no twig

Wavering in its path, as it surrounds an eerie collective,

Bunched by a haunted settlement, deep within the barrier’s keep,

Seen there, is time forgotten and slipped, into languish,

The moment is sheathed, of when it all was corrupted,

A nightmare, living out its terror, without any appease

To those, who bear the events, who’ve had their vibrance stripped

While they roam the gray, replaying what occurred,

A cemented finale, taunts the living, as the sorcerer revels,

Everlasting glee, surveying the misery and agonizing gloom

Of the forest folk, for this tale wrenches the hearts

Of all those who hear it, for that reason, no one dares, recite,

Even now, it aches to divulge its truth, to these open pages,

Of how the forest, became an eternal, winter graveyard,

It all emerged, from an unrequited desire, the villainy

That had crept up, invading sanity, pulling at its soundness,

Belonging, to a creature of longing, for their infatuation

With vivid eyes, that had pierced his stone temple,

Had become, his sole existence, all by which he was consumed,

Her smile, gave him lift, up out of his own misfortunes,

Her sweet perfume, eradicated his somber disposition,

Until, she shattered his euphoria, as he plummeted

Deep into a hollow dimension, within his own psyche,

Where a whirlwind, has trespassed, and brought affliction,

His Hyde side, was rapidly expanding, and replaced

His once calm demeanor, to become a turbulent venom,

Set to corrupt her happiness, bring it all down to a speck,

He found a curse, one so baneful, that it frightened demons

That lurked inside of him, to which sanity almost escaped,

Only those same depraved beasts, flinched and encouraged

The curse to breathe, giving spark, to the creation,

The next day, he skulked from the only alley untouched by light,

Followed her gleeful stride, past the town’s border

Into the equally spirited forest, awaiting her prince paramour,

Unaware, of a sneaking presence, surveying her beauty

That used to appease him, now stirs a volatile rage

That he used, to target, her daydreaming wonderment,

All while she roosted, upon the agreed meeting stone,

The cold pendulum, swung furiously, as she lingered

Under the complacent sun, hovering in the eternal echo,

The curse, had entangled her, oblivious to it’s clutch,

Locked, within her own time capsule, within an eclipse,

And the only way, to escape the curse, was for her heart to warm

In the embrace of her inamorato, for it was outside his reach,

As the ice barrage, gusted over the entire lush forest,

Unleashing the scourge, to devour light, without any prejudice,

Leaving the orchestrator of the curse, in the inmost of darkness.

Thine Own Self

What feels like dragging an anchor through the sand

Is just a weary man, stripped, of his beloved identity

As he looks ahead, to the forsaken path, and dreadfully sighs,

With dissatisfaction, of how he’s traveled an unforeseen

And an oblique distance, he ponders, how one man settles

While staring intensely out, through the frosted panes

Into a jaded blist-full scenario, that no one emerges

As the valiant one, but dreams, of a momentous moment,

Only to realize, he’s simply contrived the impossible,

A floating barrel, brimming with an unstable psychosis,

Closely stalkingly him in the pitch black unknown,

As he pulls on the weight, that forces him still,

So he howls, at the glow of the full moon, nestled

In the falling overcast, shrinking from its absence,

A furious fray, rages on, in the complicated mechanisms

Carefully cranking, each gear shifting the other in place,

What might seem, like an unruly jagged jigsaw,

Is paradoxical, for this man scours the land of dormant giants

That at any moment, will awaken, to tear him down, crumbling,

Then in a panic, he tries to collect himself, scattered

And struggling to keep bound, each piece resistant

To the onslaught of his fever, hoping harden his malleable

Self constructed being, riding the rim of insanity,

Fearfully aware, of the beasts still hibernating within,

And once those disengaged fragments, stray past the valley

They will rise, and take control, losing himself, unabridged,

Married, to the distant trail, never again, fully collected.

Visited

I lay my head down, eager to drift into a somber huddle,

But I feel an outstretched, bleak reach invading

My chest, sunken in, cracking the cage around the castle,

As silence stands, defenseless against the owl’s screech

I shut my eyes, and try to halt the vigorous spinning

Inside my head, as flashes of probability, is projected

Onto the backs of my eyelids, who is this visiting,

A touch, familiar, enlarges the drumbeat’s echo,

While I can’t distinguish, this perplexing occurrence,

I know it’s desire, its prelude to the awaited for cessation,

An evident resident, in the eerie hours of unrest,

How many nights, does this being visit my side of the bed

To watch me tremble, knowing of its ominous presence,

Even then, I have sleep paralysis from an absent dread

That surfaces, from its deep growl, and slowly ascends

Over me, gaining a glimpse, into my palpable panic,

Rapid, boisterous breathing and a feverish sweat,

Happens within a tick of an old, dried up clock,

Forgotten to be wound up, and given a entryway

For those that time, gives no pardon.

Nightmare V: Scorned

Follow me down the unforeseen, as you strain

For my hand, hoping that can settle the constant wavering,

Currents push and pull your sight, as the pressure

In your unstable mind, turns it to a vast emptiness,

You start to choke, on the words you’ve tried to sink,

Hoping they’d be lost, never to crawl back up your gullet,

Didn’t realize, the girth, as your fluttering eyes swell,

A drink, placed before you, to help ease the decent,

As I move a chair for which you occupy, it becomes a casket,

Buried, in the forgotten icy depths, emerges my relief,

I chain the gates of insanity shut, turn towards the horizon

To walk away, as your voice comes through, chills

My painful exhale, seeing the fog roll out from my lips,

It grabs hold, tight grip around my entire being

And I can’t help my tremors, running all through my nerves,

Crashing me back down, to that polar ocean chasm,

You’re latched on, disallowing my persistent disconnect

So you can continue to taunt, living inside the stormcloud,

I get up, sprint ahead, as my lungs tighten and burn,

Yet I haven’t gone anywhere, I’m running inside the plot

That has grown stagnant, yet I believe the reel spins,

Alone, in a small dark theater, buried in hypnosis,

Aware, yet unable to escape, a grasp, itself unaware

Of its overbearing tenacity, huddled tightly to a broken clock,

I slowly creep, towards the silence, as she turns

In consternation, of my present approach,

“Death is vengeance, eradicating measure to which we cling to.”

A boom! Hurdling me back in, to the suffocation,

Floating in the open congestion, blind to every direction.

Ever Running

How often, does that moment repeat,

Like a jagged puzzle, it gets pieced together

Right in front of you, just the same it gets dismantled,

It plays out, every second, in every direction,

Looking into the twisted crystal ball that you can’t let go,

Your mind is overtaken, they all flood the gates

A million voices, stampeding and screaming

For their part to be heard, pushing over one another,

Trying to squeeze through to the front

Just to tear you down a bit more, until you’ve vanished,

Gone into the void, still with those barking thoughts

That seem to be racing around, chasing after itself

As if its trying to catch the villain, not realizing

Their the one with the glowing red eyes,

As they continue emphatically bouncing

Off every echoing wall, and crashing back down

Shaking the stillness within, as you wrestle alone,

Hearing their chatter, louder as they jump

Off ledges, landing beside and all around you,

And all you want, is to sleep.

A Friend Talking You Down

How grim, is tonight’s tale?

As you stand on the ledge, looking down at the world,

How many daggers, have you removed?

And how many, are sunken in, too deep to locate the handle

Yet they flutter and sting, with a single breath,

It’s time to go, leave the same way you came here,

Release your grasp on the aspiration, of finding her,

You hope, you spot her by her scent, drifting to the high roof

So that you won’t be seen, not just by her, but everyone,

But why put yourself through torture again?

Is it worth it, when expecting the crushing blow?

Are you able to withstand, more artillery?

Disappear, let yourself heal, while distractions

Flood over you, as you slowly start to see the distance,

Step back, adore the sunrise, coming over the rooftops,

And wait, for those daggers, to disintegrate.

The Runnaway and Her Guide

Her heart, bears down in her caved in chest, like an anchor,

Too heavy, are her steps that make deep impressions

In the soft snow, leaving her trail as she tries to vanish

From a villainous, overbearing shadow, closely following

As she sluggishly drags herself, wounded by a distraction,

A path, that sat so clouded, she couldn’t see the descent,

Fallen, so far down the rabbit hole, with the weight forcing

Her down further, nothing to ease her into liberation,

The shadow, ingests any inkling of light, trying to squeeze

Through a swell of darkness, only to have her crash

Back into the clinging holds of the shadow’s depression,

She claws at the abyss, escapes and carries her sorrow,

On the run again, she’s found, but by a carrier of light,

An albino raven, hoping to carry her heart, in aid

So that she can fade, past sight of the stalking shadow,

So the raven takes hold, of her weighted torment

As she starts to walk, a little easier, leaving no trace

For the eager and engrossing shadow to plague,

Yet it rolls forward, sniffing for her distinction,

Closing in, the raven urges, for the runaway to hasten

As the raven feels her slipping, back into extinction,

He then spreads his wings, eclipsing the rolling black,

Hoping to cloak her, with her languid fractured heart,

The raven does not abandon her side, as she collapses,

But now, a shallow drop, for she has her loyal guide

To carry her out of the fog, and when she slips again,

He’ll pick her back up, filling in the shadow’s nest,

To one day, sustain the crushing pendulum of her anguish.

Out of Sight

The station is swarmed, with rushing waves of robotic steps,

No one acknowledging the other, unobservant

Of the evil, amongst them, for they’re completely focused

On their own, selfobsorbed, face buried into their screen

That is constantly running, as they pass the chameleon

That doesn’t have to try too hard, observing the detached,

Why would the stampede, halt at his feet, or even acknowledge

His passive presence, that barely flutters the butterfly,

A tattered vision, tucked into the deep crowd,

He displays, their hideous nature, for them to peer

And gawk at, disgusted by his horrid stench that pervades

Their carefully crafted bubble, ignorant to the reality,

He revels in the convoluted entanglement, seemingly orchestrated

By the devil in his skin, but no one notices his enjoyment,

Although distinct, it hides under the world’s congested noses,

Out of sight, but deep in their minds, is the mass puppeteer.