Nightmare III

My latest post in my nightmare series where reality is bent and horror is limitless. A little more obscure than my other posts. Enjoy! 

I try to spit out what I’ve already swallowed, 

The lingering taste shrinks my tongue

And chokes my gasping regurgitation,

A virus, invading my castle and breaking stone 

To bring me to my knees, as darkness

Hovers over my feeble position, a spider

Approaches casually, surveying my horror, 

It speaks, not to further my horrid torment

But to give warning of those words I spewed, 

It expressed the terror it felt from the echo

Coursing through it’s vast tangeled web 

That I find myself caught in, a strangled prey

Hunted by the ghost I spoke of, reaching for me

In the dwelling light, abandoned by the spider

As I’m the captive of what I said, kept high

In the inverted tower weakened by the slither 

Of my expression, I wear shackles now

Holding me in the center of encapsulation, 

As all around me, looms above my perception

And the web has sunken in, taking me down 

Into the deepening pit, surrounded in torment

In which I hold myself, yelling at me collapsed, 

The spaces in the web fill in with onlookers

That pressure me down into the fathomless 

Making me hear what I said high pitched

Crippling me as all I can do to get away

Is run deeper into the void, looking forward 

Away from the collision of sound and mind, 

Escape being just outside of my grasp

With those words repeating in the tomb

That stretches on into an illusion of end, 

Never feeling the relief of the weight 

Upon my chest in the drowning pit slide off,

It weighs heavier, soaking every passing second

Until I, cease to be able to hold my tongue.

Spellbound 

Her lips, sealed by the witch’s thread and needle, 

Locking in what urges to scream from the insanity

Overflowing the cusp of her heart, drowning

In the cryptic silence, overly aware of the ripples

Surrounding her, inching it’s grasp closer, 

She shivers in the lasting echo of a fictitious howl

To doubt the cool wind that wants to carry her through,  

Disturbed by the offing that incarcerates her

In her very own mind, as she scurries to the corner

Hoping it’s tall curvy stature will cloak her,

Keeping paranoia as the pillow where she rests

While hiding from any light that shows its warmth, 

She slowly reaches out, slightly dipping the tip of her nail 

Into embrace, but quickly shrinks back into the collected 

Darkness, feeling comforted by the crawling fog,
Every serpent has found and taken from her garden

Closing her gates eternally, and banishing the luminous,

What can break the spell, that perches upon the cloud? 

What chance is there for the caged voice, to sing again?

Living the rest of her life, fearful of the word Love. 

©DorianPoe2016

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

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. 
 

While the Apocalypse Comes

The static came in, as they huddled
Around each other, and for once, the world
Felt hollow, and time had lost its hold on them,
While it all bleeds out, and simultaneously, Everything seemed to turn stone,
Medusa’s stare being this eclipse
The world is entranced by, except
For the two that hid themselves
Inside each others unstable island,
Bracing the edge, as the deafening boom Eviscerates every crumbled rock,
They purge every last drop of themselves
Into what could sleep undisturbed
In the spider’s web, while the wave reaches
Out for them, to swallow their world
Designed to fall with the rest, they hold on
Fighting off what can’t be ignored, just to store
Every freckle she has, especially
When she smiled at him, before it faded,
The static became louder,
The still of them torn apart from its keep,
The eclipse enveloped every breath,
Every beetle that made marks here,
All that lasted was the wasteland, void
Of any bloom, but the drop dripped
From the web, soaking the dry earth.

On the Battlefield of Life and Death

Silence, gripping her throat, as her eyes gasp
For air in the fatal heel clicks of his scythe,
Appearing from out the unknown reaches
Of abandoned lives, comes the cold shadow
To rape her of color, drag it while it scrapes
The hardened path to the underbelly of Sanity,
The demons playground, populated by the lost
And scorched by all those who continue to fall
Into the grasp of it’s engulfing sand, buried
On impact, as she feutily battles
With the dragging noose of that fable,
Shedding doubt, while the darkened fog
Swarms her mind’s sonnet, distracting
Her unsteady clutch around the fading light,
For all she desires before the inevitable plunge
Is one last glimpse, of those she’ll miss,
As the battleaxe slips from her grip, darkness
Comes toward her, places it’s cool hand upon
Her, and lulls her into it’s keep, tearing away
From her, all that she has nurtured
In her own arms, all that she frays for,
All the years of cuts and bruises on her heart
From this raging war that she bravely fought
To stay above the hollow echo, only to fall,
For death will always be the victor here
Despite our best efforts and strength,
She carries with her, the marks of victory
Throughout her war, that aged her well,
She’s now ready to let go.

Taming the Beast

image

She graces his cheek, with her frightened hand
As his subtle scuff of breath, envelopes her
While she dives into his chest, searching
For his battle drum at ease, trekking
His wielding arm, up to his inflamed chest,
Finding, along the way, scared lashes
From withstanding speared pitchforks
And shattered shards of glass, broken upon
His thick snakeskin that she breaks through,
And lull the Beast’s tenacious rage,
Her hand, presses gently on his stone gate,
A petal, decending down onto broken ground Filling the cracks from its silk and perfume,
The Beast submerged with his beauty,
Her serenity from her smile and touch melts The stone, and gives way to her influence,
She tamed the Beast, and found his heart,
But sleeping demons, never stays unseen
As a crashing fire, bursts in through silence,
Tidal wave of fear under uproar breaking down
And into a private and secure ground
That had just been set to rest upon a mantle,
The Beast wakes, but fears his own claws,
He sets his beauty in safety’s tall tower
And runs into the ingesting battlefield,
In the madness of the attack, the demons
Are lost to the beast and unearth his beauty,
They vanish back to their domain, celebrating
How they eradicated their foe
By removing the serenity that he lived for,
For without his beauty, there was no taming the Beast.

©DorianPoe2016

Tumbling Down

He stood there at His side, the slinking wraith
With its sheer persuasion crippling reality,
Time lapses in the whirlwind, as the soaked
Knife crashes on to the painted tiles, Splattering the fresh pattern,
As the wraith grins, tightening
Its grasp around His mind, letting the ballast
Carry Him further out, losing sight,
Another soul consumed by Sanity,
Its own enemy, fishing for the dead drowning
In the impenetrable molasses,
The wraith never left Him, not for a single tick
Before it filled it’s belly, left the hollow shell
In the dwindling, choking on the vanishing,
The pole snapped in the fisherman’s hold
As He, tumbled down into the abyss.

Between the Growl and the Fog

image

My escape has been stunted, by the murky unknown
That stretches out before me, radiating
The creeping darkness, crawling towards me
From out the thick blindness, that I must get through,
The decaying bridge wavers in my hesitation
As the growling, grows louder behind me
Shaking the stiffled limbs that refuse to thaw,
Where will I be, if I strain into the ingesting fog?
Can I truly outrun the steady pursuant familiar
With my stench, studied my vacant steps
In the forever desert of consciousness,
Can I hurdle the giant’s stalk to make it past
My glooming premonition, stalking me,
Slithering my step an inch further down
While the growl pervades and interrupts the silence,
Which, in turn, forces another inch by inch
Until I’m fully immersed, into the coddling,
Sentenced to the overshadowed distance,
Lost, to the growl that has plummeted down
Into the looping void, still in its search,
I’ve failed in my escape, I’ve chosen the wrong side.