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.

Stolen Senses

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Do you dare to turn away from the door,
Slowly creaking, as it opens to show
Its daunting depths, your enemy reaching
To tear your life out and bring it back
Into hollow emptiness, feeding starving vultures,
But you pin yourself, tightly into the corner’s edge
Locking, your tiring gaze upon the oozing dark
Slithering under the bed, and over your head,
Pinching your lips shut, to suffocate any whimper
To not give away your voice,
Squeezing your eyelids until they wrinkle
To not give away your sight,
They hunger for it, feeling for vulnerability
Of the glass, holding in the quicksand,
The rattle of its drag along the room hisses
In your ear, as you realize
You’re left open as it takes your hearing,
Your heart plummets as you open your eyes, blind,
Gasping, but no sound emerges,
You’re left, vacuous,
Stolen senses by those who feed on them.

©DorianPoe2016

Hunted Down

You wrestle with the shadow
To stay above you,
Afraid of Loneliness finding passage
In through the crack of light
From the fading eclipse,
Trying to pin down the cast night
Over you, pitching yourself out of view,
Wandering further into your veiling
Thinking your scent vanishes along with you,
But the hunters can’t be easily swayed
As you hear, their heavy breathing,
The lock is broken, letting in your villains,
Shining light from their palm, reflected
In your shaking fear-filled eyes,
Disbelieving that they’ve found you, paralyzed
By the hunters nearing their conquest,
Now a different kind of shadow
Rises above you, as the swarm you hid from
Comes rushing through the open door,
Beating you down, wrestling, with you
To succumb to desolation,
So you brave it the best you can
Until the next eclipse.

©DorianPoe2016

Too Many Open Tabs

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Late at night, as I peruse my thoughts
And jump, from idea to Wonderland
Escaping narrowly into another tab,
Finding myself in a distant picture,
Foreign steps, into a calm river
And out into the cold, with no blanket
Except for the falling sky, as I dart
To an already traveled road, reviewing
What I have learned, it is what I have forgotten,
Too many open sources, without any retention,
As I continue to sift my way out of swallow
And into another trap, flying to the bottom,
What was I thinking about?
Where has my mind drifted to?
A year in the sun, lost on an island
With the company of my own insomnia.

©DorianPoe2016

Vanished Into the Fog

The heavy shade suffocates the morning
As I wonder out, from my lavish cradle,
Having only the finest cloth, grace
My pampered skin,
Consumed, in my possessions,
As I blur out the rest of the world,
From my glass house,
Original paintings kept in a closed room
Just to brag, of my ownership,
I surround myself with these marvels
And made famous by them,
I have it all, yet nothing still,
Only I sat unaware, until a crash
Upon the vacant canvas perched above, Sending down a reckoning in it’s storm,
And when all had cleared, my glass house
Stood high, and intact of my possessions,
Then came a slight tapping
Of tiny stones, scratching my home,
A lost boy, amongst the wreckage,
I come out in a stampeding rage
As another stone, leaves his hand
Shattering a pane of my possession,
When I turn back, to release my fury,
There’s no boy, vanished into the fog,
Sweeping, echoes the destruction
Laid upon by a nuisance,
Until he reappears, lightly tapping
On my fragile door,
I slowly march over, with red burning
In my eyes, yet the boy waits,
He doesn’t speak, no apology for chaos
But a piece of parchment, handed to me,

“No stone has less value than the idols
You carry in your heart, weighing you down. ”

When I finish reading, the boy is gone,
Vanished into the nothingness
From which, he came,
Later that night, another storm
Beckons beyond the range,
Flashing, lighting up the entire canvas,
This storm, brews more fierce than any
My possessions can withstand,
I begin to pack, wrap and move my gems
To a safer hold, but it’s too much,
The bellowing wind brings warning
With the storm, right behind it,
Smashing against my home,
Shattering more than what the stone did,
Waves of monumental hight, pounds
Against the inside walls, tearing apart
My woven cloths and sheets,
Lighting from Olympus blasts through
The shields of the dark closest,
Burning the scenes, I forgot about,
All the while, I’m here
Watching from striking distance, 
Who was that snotty little boy
That stole my life away,
It was him, that brought forth Poseidon’s
Cruel and unusual punishment,
For all I did was live within a museum
Of fortune, inside a glass house
For all to see,
Until all, is but a common phrase
Shouted out,
But I threw no stone, rock or boulder,
I kept sacred, all that made me
An island of buried treasure,
Only to have it lost to the sea,
Now, there is only me,
I once had a life, blink,
And you would have missed it,
It was filled with outrageous fortune
But, that all vanishes, I squandered
Away my years, idolizing materials,
Things that would not hold me,
Things that would not make me feel,
Things that would never stop me
From vanishing, long before I realized.

©DorianPoe 2016

Peace at Last

Silence screaming out, piercing the veil
Draped over stone eyes, gazing
Through a set of trembling ones,
Steel slowly slithering out, stained
Dripping crimson petals onto white tile,
The deed is done, the curse lifted,
Crashing noises of the blade shattering
Against the puddled floor,
He perches over the frozen stare,
Places his now empty, but always warm
Hand, over that distant look,
“No more will you suffer in loneliness.”
Shuts the glaze,
Hoods his identity,
And vanishes into the depths.

©DorianPoe 2015

My Escape

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As I nestle inside the chapters
I’m transported, to the depths of the pages,
Sitting, beside the characters in dispute
Knives drawn, seeing the mystery solved
Right in front of me,
I’m there, amongst all the words
Pressed and read a million times,
And as the final chapter ends,
Where the character I have followed
From the prologue, to their tragic end,
Shutting the book, opens reality,
As I search for my next literary escape.

©DorianPoe 2015

In the Distance of Time

A constant chill, rushes through
These bodies, deserted channels
Haunted, by a love, buried from sight,
Their whispers are forgotten pieces
Of a rich history, bled out,
Dried up, in the destruction of the wasteland,
No sun to warm the two, wrapped
In each other, their blanket arms
Lost in the bitter bite,
Still, a smile under dust
Outlines the fading ledge of the earth,
Distant from life, but firm grasp
Kept, throughout the decay around them,
Even when blown away, they grow back
For they are rooted, in love.

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©DorianPoe 2015

Good Vs Evil

Who are you?
What do you feel within, burning
At your chest,
Branded from the stalking voice
Parading in parts of you, undiscovered,
You don’t decide, you are the evil
That was before you,
Seen in the shadows of past,
Or good, shining through armour
But, are you too afraid
To show your valor?
Hoping for a different twist in the story.

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©DorianPoe 2015

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