The Hypnotist

Art by Magda Proski

You see, what you want to see, trapped in a narrow tunnel,

You hear, what you want to hear, trying to forget

As the echo in your chamber, seems to be infinite,

So loud, with nowhere to turn for peaceful salvation,

Louder, it seems to grow and vibrate the hollow box,

The walls begin to crawl upwards, on itself, stretching

Back down, towards the familiar self-deprecating pit,

You feel better, in the loneliness that closely surrounds

And presses against you, slowly cutting you, to leech

Out your prolonged existence, to seclude you further

Away from the surface, but this goes unnoticed

Because you still see what you want, as reality

Storms the castle, laughing at the crumbling defences,

But you’ve come to me, sunken into the comforts

Of the enveloping couch, and put your trust in my skills,

You might be aware of all that has eluded your consciousness

For so long, but they’ll stay behind the heavy curtain

With my influence, so you can see and hear, what isn’t there,

And when it begins to resurface, you’ll return

With new demons amongst the ones picking at your scars.

Advertisements

Knots Tied by Devil Hands

A whisper, stalkingly crawls into an unsuspecting ear,

And once inside, it becomes the sole audible sound

In its suffocating world, drawing in nothing but white noise

Surrounding that once distant echo, able to slither through,

The room, begins to feel more cryptic, as that hissing voice

Creeps louder, buzzing in the canal of a tortured soul

Who closes his eyes, and hangs by a steel noose,

The outside, falls silent while drowning in their own hands,

A sea reflecting the pitch night, swallowing vibrance

While it searches for its next drifter, floating along the tide,

And it does, like a sonar, as a tear crashes on its body,

The devil in the depths, tying firm knots for clouded minds,

The high water is at the brim, about to overflow

From all those, who have drowned, seeking sanctuary,

At their hollow gasp, he hands them what they seek,

A bound rope, eager to send them to the engulfing gallows,

A chill, rushes over them, as their sight struggles,

The sea, has claimed another, washing away from existence,

Leaving all behind, finding no answer, only guilt

For more of an open hand, diving into to their darkness

Kept unseen on the surface, kept to be, their own demise.

Nightmare IV: Living in the End

Time, has been cruel, looking out into the dust

From the tightly compressed box, devoid of any object,

Beside myself, an aging dog, my only visible friend

Next to all the ones I’ve conjured up, in my twisted mind,

All I can do, is look out into the howling nothingness

That has enslaved me to these walls, as I scratch

At them as each day passes, dragging my fingers

Deep into the visceral, coming out sick and dented,

I fear that when I fall into a deep sleep, and dream

That when I awake, I’m still in that dream, caged

In a worse hell than this, an everlasting nightmare,

An entrapment of my own mind, therefore my design

Seeded in the unventured crushing depths of my ocean,

Eyes getting heavy, as I fight to stay away from slipping

Further into the tunnel, where the end is the darkest edge,

It starts to hurt, to keep my eyes aware of my current state,

The room starts to slowly vanish, as the shadows swallow

It whole, then I awake, in a different nightmare,

A cave, with a glowing red lights, nestled in the blind

Corner, that was further away, than just a second ago,

Closer and closer, it nears, but never reaches,

When can I fall asleep now?