Hiding From Yourself 

She hollows the soil of her secluded island, dredging 

Her own quarantine, for this is not paradise, 

Staring at an unfriendly pale light, that hawks 

Down at her, bringing forth her altered state, 

Running from death, that was perched upon her bust 

She now finds herself within a battle to her own demise, 

She howls as she turns, growing fangs and claws 

That have torn apart the unsuspecting, 

She fought to keep sanity off the hissing noose, 

Yet she would find herself drunk off the gore of the dead

That had been displayed by herself to discover

Her own macabre, the monster that persists within, 

Uncontrollable she has buried herself below 

The full moon that she desperately hides from, 

But her eye consimes it, she’s caught in the hypnotic glow

As shadowed hands rip off her flesh, leaving horror 

She couldn’t suppress anymore, the monster 

That terrorizes every blink of her solace, 

But the island lays barren, and the noose

Already tight around her neck. 

Dance into Death

The still of the moment quaked, within her already 

Convulsive body, starring at her ripped apart masquerade, 

Stuck in the throat of the hourglass, gasping for warmth 

As the stabbing chill, trickles down her curved spine, 

The cloud within her grasping onto purity, polluting 

Her fading heart, once beat with ferocity, is now flickering, 

A dried up husk, left out for the circling horned vultures 

Salivating as innocence is bled out, pooling beside 

Her collapsed world, the only one she’s known and loved, 

Disintegrated in the fire she possess, brewed deep 

And erupted out of her, now she stares at the aftermath, 

Tangled in the deep twisted web, watching, clutching 

To the cross, singeing the light into dust, to impale fear

While deep in possession, of her resident demons, 

The snake stalked its prey in the tall blades, from slinking 

Into her crib, wrapping itself around her feeble throat, 

To her decline onto the dance floor, where a figure dressed 

In a burnt white tux, and a vile grin eager for her arrival, 

The poison spreading, consuming brilliance and taking

Her picturesque home, she disgusts herself watching

From her secluded tower, confined to this merciless takeover, 

Able to only witness the violent seizure coming to surface 

From within her own eroded vessel, sinking to unreachable

Depths, where care, concern and hope suffocates the breathless, 

Her demon, outstretched towards the crashing tower

As she runs, with it all crumbling beneath the decay,

Stifling her cry, as she chokes on the smoke, slithering 

From her slowly dying glimmer, picking up the dagger 

To subdue her persistent demon, waiting for their dance, 

To snuff out her clip of light, only remaining from her tight

Grasp upon her own fragile childhood, but nurtured, 

As it should, only to surrender at the will of the dance, 

She finally meets the darkness, with the dagger in possession, 

She has lost, before the music even began, taking stance 

The dagger held out together, slipping away from her arrest, 

As he forcefully brings her into his keep, under his domain, 

The spilling sand burying the past, as the demon fully takes over, 

Swallowing her whole, as he dances with her, yet without, 

In the ferocity he absorbed, only to let loose in an outburst 

The grim fire talons, lacerating the girl’s entire dynasty, 

Severed, from the sanity, engulfed in the cycling agony, 

Torn to the pits where obscurity keeps her consciousness, 

Looking at her broken palace, rusted over by the eclipse, 

Leaving it all to the decay, death being her demon, 

He spreads his storm from the empty, lost at sea vessel, 

Dancing alone to death. 

Sight at the Edge

Like the hunted, I sprinted to the edge of the cliff

To be subdued by my demons with joyous relief,

While the wolves are clung to my heels, salivating

At the inkling that they will bury their fangs 

Into my hollow struggle, surrounding me in the shadow,

Growling as they solicit my forfeit to their rules, 

To their own ways, desperately trying to drag me backwards 

Into what you were molding, the gallant tourist 

Showing off the coruscant of what would be left behind, 

Brewing the guilt of Macbeth, clouding my sight, 

But there are thirteen reasons why I find the cliff

At this moment, standing below it all, a stampede 

To let go, be far from the devil living beside me, 

I’m ready for truth, past these gates, which I hold tight fisted, 

Leaving its mark upon my arrival, reminding me 

One last time, what I’ll abandon once I cross the threshold, 

Back turned towards the lightning strikes, flashing

Against the stained rocks, nestled in the destination, 

It’s been a long journey to this entrance, to my judgment, 

Even with the pack growing inside the tall gates, 

I am here, at the precipice swallowing the sight ahead, 

Sinking into it and accepting fate of my own story

That is coming to its end, after all endured, 

Peace has come unto me, while wolves lose the scent. 

How many demons follow you up the hill? 

Complications will always be apart of life; 

Sickness, depression and hurt shadows your steps, 

Find the peace in the experience of sight.

Searching for Control in the Avalanche 

I’ve fallen to the hush, as I bleed in the swaddle of distortion, 

Reaching for control, but I’m held back by panic 

Filling my lungs, having Chaos sniff for my scent,

The depths growing as I choke on the cold surrounding me,

The bitter taste engraving itself, on the back of my throat, 

A never ending climb out, prolonged by my crippled

Sight, caught in a violent haze that furthers my damnation 

That is comprised of my most vindictive demons, 

Taunting me in the avalanche, ripping out my voice

With their molten silver talons, dredging up the darkness,

 I’ve been through it all, the battered and bruised victim

Of anarchy in my own halls, shrinking atop of me,

As I fall asleep in that hush over a rat’s nest, nibbling 

At my control, down to the bone, now open to infestation,

Turning my harmony into pandemonium, I see doom

Climbing over the horizon, reaching for my grave,

Creaking is the casket as it opens, letting in mayhem, 

For even in the hush, it is Chaos who sets the stage, 

For Sanity’s gates, have been distorted. 

Deceit

Do you trust the parrot in the cage as it mocks

Your own lie, staging tall over you 

Is the quaking flap of its wing, deconstructing 

The tower from which you dove out from, 

You’re possessed by the Ivory, shimmering

In your dull eye, a fool’s blunder that repeats

Door to door, and alliance with the covert,

Unsheathing the retreat from the light,

Cowering back, into disguises you’ve adopted,

Nurturing it, as you fade out into the common 

Trickle, from a tarnished sink above the waste,

Forgotten as soon as it’s polish went insipid,

Darkness in the midst of self realization,

Overlooked, because your focus is latched

Back to that Ivory tower, and the parrot

Mocking you while singing, embracing 

The stench, exuded by your own ignorance,

Death is the only way out, you’re in too deep,

Suffocating in the snake’s gullet, enamored

By the surface glisten of  your purchased life,

Stripped down naked, do you even know 

Who you are anymore? 

Devil in the Sea

The abandoned sea banks rock the decaying boats

That waver endlessly, against the barren docks,

Once, so alive and populated with thriving catches,

It now resembles a wasteland, long forgotten about,

But has it, just because no foot dares to occupy 

The unattended pier, does is get misplaced

To fend for itself against the punishment of time,

Slowly eroding the town into a whisper, all because 

A mystery beyond the black, the Devil in the sea, 

Its existence, clouded by a myth spread into panic,

A steep decline into oblivion, with no way back,

A horrid stench of rotting death pervading the heavy air, 

The scarred town living under the umbrella

Of this over told fable, to the point where it’s merely

A story told, repeating off different tongues, but

It’s true depth has been diluted, fabricated 

Into a ghost encounter, in which the lone survivor

Still buried in a living grave, wanders the true story

That won’t relinquish its talons from his forgotten mind, 

He has lost recollection of his entire past,

Except his Devil in the sea, which haunts his consciousness, 

It seemed like a distant dream for so long, until decay

Spread over all he knew, and all that was left

Was the glare from the dark empty water, 

On his last day, he started from the dock into the abyss,

Tightened his tie, and fell into the arms of the sea, 

But not before leaving, his telling of what happened, 

The day that had lived in infamy, for a different reason,

“I remember nothing, but the day I came to face

The Devil that roams the sea beside this stink town, 

It’s why I was so attached to the sail, free from the idiots,

I was happy amongst the open serene waters, 

And I knew them well, I navigated every channel, 

Bestowing my knowledge on a young eager sailor,

We would come back with bountiful catches, 

There was nothing better, I’d live in the sea if possible, 

One day, there were talks of an impending storm,

But mere rumbles weren’t going to keep me from my escape, 

I went out with the young lad, despite the warnings, 

In retrospect, I should have never left the dock, 

The winds were forceful, thrusting us off course

Into waters I never sailed, never even seen on any map,

Still within the eye of the storm, we did all that we could

To stay afloat, with gusts of stinging rain beating us,

The boat tipped so far to the side, I lost my grip 

Fell into the choppy ice water, swallowing me whole,

The lad did all he could to lift me out from the devour

Into the unsteady pulsating crumbling boat, 

Slowly vanishing into the storm, blending into chaos,

The thrashing underwater whirlwind tossing me down

Suffocating light, I saw nothing but the end to it all,

As I looked below me, I found a massive shadow 

That appeared as if from the shallow eternal dark, 

This shadow was monstrously big, stretched up towards me

But still, a figure of no distinct character, 

It seemed to have no end, going past the ocean floor

As it nestled me in it’s unlikely arms, to carry me out,

It leaned toward me, and passed me life in a kiss,

The storm settled, as the sun beamed down shining 

Light on an angel, no Devil or monster to fear,

She saved me from the Devil, as I found myself 

Reaching up for my boat, from waters I called home, 

I searched for her, days that melted into night, endlessly, 

So what better way to keep searching, then to die

In the waters that she found me, falling into the story

That has spooked her out of my life, I die to find her,

You’ll only live with a thread, of what you truly desire,

Although you’ll notice it, when it has crashed out

Of existence, pouring out for it, but it’s too late,

It won’t get easier, only more excruciating as you live on,

Searching, for even the slight resemblance, coming up empty.”

The Lost Reflection

I tied myself, to the back of the trigger, 

Wavering on the tip of the needle, trying

My hardest, not to collapse into the missing 

Mirror, the image hiding behind the corner,

Frozen in silence within the red, staring

At what used to encompass a serenity of sight, 

Its brilliance, muffled by an overshadow

Cast by this now open cavern, leading down

Into the further, until what was above, 

Now births into the below, struggling in limits 

Of Sanity before it crumbles, toppling over me,

The pronounced psychosis dominating over 

A hushed breeze from the serene, of a passing

Butterfly, crushed under the weight

Of the tempered hammer, staining the soft lull,

Ravenous rage, blurring and diluting my vision

In front of the overseeing full moon I transform

Beyond the recognizable, and howl back

At the mocking night, who I trust no more,

Words that I can’t take back now, 

I can’t bare to look at my own reflection.

Master of Monsters 

The boy places himself in front of the portal

With a small burlap sack, containing stolen scraps 

Of dwelling fear, held locked past sight of clothes 

Scurriedly hung amongst forgotten toys, 

Is a prison for those, no one else would dare

Capture, for they lay awaiting the sting of his voice

While holding a piece of them, pressing into his palm

Repeating  their name, to come forward from darkness,

A slave to his calling, obliterating sense and sensibility 

As these beasts must obey beyond their engravings,

A vigil for their once most sacred possession, their custom,

With a shrapnel of hoof, he swallows the name, 

Ekimmu! Softly said to himself in huddled light 

But it’s an eruption within the beasts torn apart mind, 

Its eyes became a pale vacancy, as it was triggered

By the distant call from the boy, sitting there still

Speaking now, directly to this overshadowing Beast,

Expressing desire for revenge to be taken upon another,

A broken down, once innocent boy, ordering monsters

To bring forth a fear, dormant in us all until awoken

By the terror that only these creatures can evoke, 

A shadow, cast overhead, perched on the shoulders

Of the fearful, stalked by possibility of return,

For fear, is presented in the absence of cognition,

Yet, the boy frozen in trance holds this weapon 

To use against those inside the gathered crowd,

A band of human monsters, the vultures of the playground, 

Taunt the boy, as his heart thumps through his own halls

Growing louder with every squawk thrown 

At the nervous boy, shaking from the overcast,

Hanging like a noose, with nowhere else to disappear to,

He keeps getting beaten, into himself, shrinking 

To the absorbing ground, his bones picked dry

By the carnivorous hellions, at ease with their sin, 

Drugging through the shame in his fresh bruises

He carefully enters his home, to not wake the snoring giant,

Finally clicks the door locked, he’s safe now,

No one can harm him, or trip him into a never ending fall,

He can be amongst himself, without any fear, until

The night takes over the room, and no light can intrude,

Shadows dance along the walls of his room, as he covers

Under his blanket, hiding from fear peeking in,

The closet door knocks, once, twice, louder and louder

Impatiently waiting for the boy to pry open past fright,

The knocking envelopes the boy and runs to the door

Flings it open to unveil, no one, darkness amongst

His own inanimate possessions, slightly wavering, 

Entranced in confusion, not noticing the rising shadow

Towering over him, reaching out to awaken him,

As a feathered touch, spins the boy to see before him

A ferocious monster, that seems to be smiling at him, 

Still, fear burst inside as the boy fell into the closet 

Fumbling for the doorknob, which the beast firmly held,

A single finger against pursed lips, trying to ease him,

As the creature speaks,

“Hello young one, my name is Ekimmu,

I come from beyond your portal

Where I roam with other like me,

We are Fear, protectors of scares this world,

You, my young boy, have too much fear,

And have been voted to receive a guardian.”

The creature takes out a burlap sack, and picks

A piece representing his chosen guardian, 

A fragment of a sharp tooth, 

“Here, a totem of fear to call your guardian

That will ward off your swarming dread,

All you need to do, is hold the totem 

And whisper his name, Rangboon.”

The boy holds the totem, studying the shape

And then finds the burlap sack, being placed 

Back into Ekimmu’s low hanging pocket,

The boy speaks,

“I need more than one guardian,

I have numerous enemies that attack me

Who deserve to be scared away.”

“But young one, this guardian is to protect 

By scaring those who bully the fearfilled ones,

Like you, full of fear and no haven,

Your guardian will only scare enough,

We monsters do not over scare, we regulate

Fear forced into this world, silent guardians

Until we need to be seen, to scare terror,

You will find your ease now, 

Trust your guardian.”

Ekimmu hugs the boy, and vanishes into the closet,

The boy sits in front of the portal, with the stolen sack,

Pick pocketed from the unsuspecting beast,

He calls Ekimmu back, along with his guardian Rangboon,

With the possession of the burlap sack, the boy has control 

Over all the monsters, forcing more out from hiding,

To follow, to steal restful breath from those unknown

In the realm of fear, dragged down into their own suffering, 

Four monsters in four different rooms, perched above

Four different beds, with eyes piercing red 

Each monster’s vision becomes the boy’s, 

Watching the fear overcome, the vultures become prey,

As the boy becomes the master of monsters, of Fear.

Spectacle 

They take their seats, waiting for the curtain 

To be pulled apart, to display their emptiness, 

Fixated, on the footsteps coming towards them

Occupying every hollow vacancy of the theater 

As the hum of anticipation follows, growing,

Congesting every row, eager for the blind to see

What they’ve packed into for, the spectacle, 

They’ve all heard from others, how marvelous 

Their experience was, a must see sensation,

They crowed over it, to again be the audience, 

In the midst of the slow decline of light, 

Fighting back their excitement, the stage

Starts to bear the standing spectacle, an error 

Of life, forced out into desolation, humiliated 

Night after night, for the brimming playhouse, 

The erect mush of torn rags and dirt smudges

Captivates, as a roar of laughter from the over 

Privileged ones that waste the high tide

Picking apart the staged impoverished fool, 

But who really sits within the puppet box,

Obedient to a hidden beggar, a crook of crooks, 

Toppling the towers from which they gawk 

At the overwhelmed spectacle, deceiving them,

Crippling their cannibalistic nature, lighting

The still spectacle, showing off it’s destitute 

To the roaring crowd, burying themselves in sin

Night after night, making the show a gratification 

That has astounded the upper streets, in turn

Making the poor spectacle, the biggest success. 

Battle Inside

Deep in the seclusion of this forest, lives a boy

And his demon wolf, defending what bonded them

In the inception of light under the lavish canopy

That shields the boy from the harmful spirited,

Until recently, when they have invaded the forest, 

Distorting the peace kept by the spread fable 

Of the haunting by this boy and his demon wolf,

As individual torches, the spirited, illuminates 

The forgotten darkness, cascading forth 

An avalanche of unwanted attention from the outside,

As these innocent looking spirits and their carnivorous

Intentions to breach light in through the eternal eclipse

That has been fought to stay intact by the branches

The boy and his demon wolf sleep under, 

But what spirit stays to itself, that dares not 

Tip the balance to the outside of insanity’s gates, 

So they clash beneath the melting fortress,

Disintegrating stem of suppressed serenity

With every strike upon the boy and his demon wolf, 

More invaders join the thundering collision 

Drying out every river slithering over every conformed 

Foundation stone of this dying hideout, running 

Away deeper into the black forest, enchanted 

By a need to forget, dream and imagine 

That the vivid reality doesn’t exist. 

©DorianPoe2016