Mirror, Mirror

I’m consumed by the wreckage
In it’s reflection, tarnished,
From my rooted hold, over many laps
Of lives around me, I live with
Knowledge, to which I stare far into,
Dried on years and cracks, overrun
As I glaze back into the handheld void,
Imprisoned in my own grasp, holding on
To what looks back, showing the disgust
Of what I am now, from what I’ve done,
Cursed in the nightmare that stalls
My death, my escape from this skin,
I’ve corrupted the dirty,
Spun the weak webbed bridge
For it only to collapse, in the sway
From my sigh, repeating in vivid picture
Where I sit, holding my damnation,
Dry desert plains blanket my face,
Cracks, swallowing the men, who’s
Legs, I’ve broken into staying,
Now dread my sweet siren song,
For my past is projected
By the mirror, clasped firmly by me,
It has become my enemy, Demon
Crested, and worn
In my tormented hypnosis.

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©DorianPoe 2015

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Taken Down by the Sea

I’m drowning, in a sea of emptiness
After falling off a thin plank,
While reaching out for the anchor
Wondering out, further away from shore,
Deserted inside, where icebergs
Collide against the stinging reef,
Jump out, onto the ripped sail
Only to suffocate, on the absence
Of the benevolent tow, to safety,
Where warmth kisses in the embrace,
Of passion
Died on a rock, poking out from my chest,
This sea, I’m daunted by,
Crushes my muscle and leaves me hollow
Howling, at the curse, reflected in her eyes.

©DorianPoe 2015

The Hunter and it’s Prey

An abrasive squawk, barges in
To a tightly grasped serenity,
Always distant,
Running into the depths, from it’s
Predator mocking a chilled turmoil
Is I, as I hide in the mid summer’s
Night garden, from the dwelling beast,
Sniffing out, my dread,
Where is my resting scape,
As a vanishing point, loses sight
In the crushing waters
Swallowing, the unattainable light,
Silence in this wrestle,
As I plot my stiff, weary bones
Beside these huddled stones, upright,
Tall, as they seclude my pant,
But for how long,
How much of the sand wastes away
Before my hunter, catches wind,
How will I know,
Will it be when cold fire seizes
My heart, in the howling echo
Of the collapsed pendulum,
As the vacant chime, of a halted world
Shines just enough light,
Upon me,
Found in muddled fright,
How long will I do this, hiding
From the stalking truth
That I, am a stranger
Amongst the living,
So I rise arms open as swift wings
Of my scrounger approaches
And carries me away,
Into the ambit.

©DorianPoe 2015

High Noon

Her dare, stares down the steep barrel
Pointed, at her glaring gaze,
Switching from fore to background
Finding the wielder
In the same entrapment, a duel
In the high tide of a dispute,
Which one will pull the trigger
Tied to the noose, firmly knotted
Tightening, as the seconds flash by,
Each of their triggers, twitches and
Gasping heart dropping moments
Was a polysemy of all that stood still,
And all that will be their epilogue,
Closing covers of steep horizons
Now, just a shallow grave in frantic waters,
She braces for impact from
Her pistol’s kickback, zooming in
On her target’s tremorous eye,
She smirks,
But, before Her pulsating finger dares
She feels cold, from the burning wound
Singeing breath, fogging up her gaze,
As his shadow, topples over her end.

©DorianPoe 2015