Returning

They’ve returned, after the annihilation 

To find their home, beyond recognition 

From the burning winds, sinking all they knew

Into the deserted light, reflecting in their suits

Without penetrating their conceived safety, 

Surveying all that decayed beneath their feet

They hear withered screams floating off 

In with the rest of the wondering debris, 

The land lies barren, empty of what once was, 

Returned in pursuit for all that they’ve lost

Discovering their possessions belong now 

To this alien world, infused with its desolation, 

Buried in disaster, gore in rubles of memory, 

All that they can recall is the blast, aftermath 

Is all that remains, and whirlwinds beside them

Showing distance inbetween the rolling storms,

A vast forgotten scape that they must uncover

To find any shred, of what they left behind,

They move past the shrieking cover, probing 

Further into the erosion, 

Further out from their way back, 

Crunching other relinquished items of past 

Under their steps, stumbling upon a block 

Compressed, of ancient times and possessions, 

Sitting beside a heated watery grave, occupied 

By one, preserved by the past breaking off

From the boulder and dripping in, 

They approached the pool, staring 

At the floating coarpse swimming on its belly, 

One of them started toward the shallow pit

Reaching out, finger tips barely grazing 

The slightly decomposed arm, yet able to hook

And reel it in for inspection, and found himself,

His black eyes staring into the empty oculus

Of the known drifter, shuddering his spine,

“Is the face gone beyond recognition? ”

Says the other, walking to rippling puddle, 

“No, it is mine, clearly.” while capturing 

His own snapshot, “now we look for yours.”

He draws out a blaze, and flicks it,

Disintegrating the very last, of his own remains, 

They walk onwards, combing the not so distant earth,

Ensuring, no other could depict existence. 

©DorianPoe2016

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Taken by Sight

On the dock, staring off into the never-ending,

A vacuous vista that is always in control,

Although clueless, as to what dwells past 

The stretch of any eye,  I’m struck with fear

Of what approaches, the daunting unknown,

Lay with me, she begs, as my panic is constant

And ever grasping onto the fled concentration, 

A tall tale, spread down ear to ear, giving birth

To paranoia, latched onto my erratic map

Riddled with visions concocted outside

The falling gates of insanity, for I wandered

Too far to find what was creeping over

The horizon, in a shadow upon the distant light

Where it perched, for years waiting to crash

Every stable thought, 

Every stable beat beneath her chest

That was echoed into my eardrum, distracted, 

And stolen out from my slumbering awareness,

No one has captured sight of this fabled myth

Trapped in imagination, projected

Onto the deep wavering chaos, slamming 

Against where I stand, held captive by sight

Of a cursed pirate ship, with torn hollow sales, 

That, among many other totems, I envisioned 

To loosen the grip around my throat 

From this fixation, of a story that has haunted 

My every  breath, about the devil’s advocate, 

But how can something nobody has seen

Cripple me, grab tightly around my occulus 

Sealing out all that I have turned away from, 

For I damned myself, waiting for the end.