Lost to the Shadow

The moon enters, through the shallow slit in the shades

And streaks across, the cold wet floor, finding her in the corner,

Tightly tucked in, shivering, in the dead of emptiness,

She cradles her head in her already tear soaked palms,

Begging, to anyone, who would bother to listen,

To spare her, and allow the night, a restful slumber,

Only the silence, doesn’t survive, due to the howling

Disrupting the presence within, an agitation, growing louder,

Being cursed to an insomniatic state, she sits and waits,

Pondering the events, that have led her, down this rabbit hole,

A day unparalleled to past ones, being the spark, to the chaos,

After a ordinarily frustrating day, like countless ones beforehand

She blindly walked home, escaping, to her fantasizing

Of moments occupied, by incredible and thrilling events,

Only to awaken, back in the dreary, monotonous clock

With its hands, slowly dragging across, its gray face,

But just as it appeared to be, her usual worn-out path,

An invasion, inside her familiar pattern, shattered the cycle

When a crazed, disheveled man, frantically burst

Out from the black, with eyes wide and trembling red,

Running right at her, as she stood, paralyzed at the charge,

Pushing her off of the path, onto the cracked cement

Where she saw the man, pummeled by oncoming traffic,

Being shredded along the hard gravel, down to the skeletal,

An image, that she was sure, would haunt her during all hours,

Only it was much worse, and far more terrifying,

Still shook up, from the disturbing image of that mangled body

Spilling out all its organs, onto the blood soaked road,

A vivid scene, focusing in, on the sprawled out gore,

Closer in, as she felt her heart, pound, in the echo of fury,

Until she passed out, into a chilling nightmare

Of an animal, ravenously tearing apart an unsuspecting wanderer,

Razor claws slicing through, their icy flesh,

All seen, as if she, was that blood covered beast,

Thinking it was another fantasy, until she crawled back home,

Naked, and painted crimson, coming in at first light,

She feverishly washed off the blood stains on her skin

Noticing, a scratch, that she imagined was from her fall,

But the shape, reminded her of the claw marks from her dream,

She never slept, as she was that beast, slashing at her victim,

A troubling curse, given to her, in a glimpse,

The nights getting longer, slipping further into the monster

Eating at her own existence, until she dissappears into it’s shadow,

If she allows it so, as she climbed out from her corner

And onto the high ledge, to end this cycle, on her own terms,

To finally sleep, and let the world, continue the routine,

Which she desperately missed, and thought of, one last time,

Letting herself free, from the shackles, into an endless rest.

For Survival

Artwork by Stefan Koidl

This world, is no longer for the living, while I perch

Over the dead, about to send another, into the black,

But the gun tremors in my pale hand, frozen in my glance

As my mind replays memories, that have lost its vibrance,

For they, are of a distant time, an unrecognizable landscape,

Where bones, don’t crack under my wandering steps

Like twigs, that echoe, in a densely fogged forest,

A graveyard, that rattles the chaos, of my solitude

Being stalked by an army of hollow abominations,

To which I’ve been evading, fleeting, their blinding ferocity,

Hunting for life, I scoured through the muddy desert

Only to reemrge, inside the domain of the hungry horde

Salivating, at the distinct stench, of my hurried pulse

As I widely stared at the tidal wave, hastily approaching,

A flutter of a memory, flashed across, the dooming onslaught

Where I had cloaked my breathing, in a choking silence,

Only there was no more room to hide, for survival, I killed,

Forcing raging bullet, after bullet, into endless vacancy

Crushing the lingering light, entombed, into their after,

Except for one, struggling to escape the claws, of an old bear trap,

That’s how I sighted him, my trail mate, for a brief moment

Until, I hovered over him, in this caged nightmare

With the gun, still stammering, in the biting stillness,

Standing there, fighting off the flooding of memories, to no avail

As the genesis of the collapse, barged in, shackled my mind

To a muffled cognizance, as it magnified in my trance,

Shoved back, into a hysteric argument, with my kid brother

A city under arrest, witnessed from the height of our window

While the shrieking in the background, distracted our focus,

The world, was folding in on itself, as panic, fuled the turmoil,

Struggling, we continued our debate, our next move, for survival,

Which was our pledge, we drudged through, the flooding darkness

That had crept, at our heels, forcing us into the undertow,

We overcame the sinister anchor, there since our abandonment,

But what hatched from the darkest depths, was far more bleak

With the radiating sun, blaring down upon the exposed,

Transforming all those, vulnerable, to the sun’s intrusion

And dispatched, from their solemn routine

Into a crazed, ravenous shell, hunting down the impervious,

The sun’s bewildering metamorphose, punctured, our barrier,

Leaving the immune, at the mercy of these hellions

As they thrashed, at our gates, prying the metal apart,

Letting in the rush of the stampede, overtaking the realm,

Their tumbling chaoss, echoed, through the narrow emptiness

Coming up the stairwell, as everything else, was stifled,

Forced into a corner, with the funneled horror, about to breach,

By the pounding, at the barricaded splintering entryway,

Left with no option, we absconded, down the fire escape

To the alleyway, amongst an expanded turbulence,

Plagued, throughout the stripped city, a disturbing battleground,

Frightened, in the daunting midst, of a world gone insane,

We wrestled our way, dodging countless feral slaughters,

One after another, chasing, after our frantic flee,

Becoming a worse terror, when the horde forced us, to separate,

I lost him, in the howling crowd, swallowed in the distance

As I found my way, to the safety of the city’s edge,

Without sight of him, staying hopeful, for his survival,

But there it was, etched into his pale wrist, “For Survival”,

As the flooding returns, further, than I have been in awhile,

Finding myself, watching through the window, the lively neighborhood,

Then noticing myself, in the close reflection,

Young, and totally unaware, of the forthcoming dread

Despite all the chatter around us, and the subtle panic,

There was nothing, my brother and I couldn’t devour,

For survival, we defied the suppressive hands, of our foster family,

Ran away, reaching Olympus, only we didn’t belong amongst this crowd,

Two teens, in a chaotic city, hands out, for loose change and scraps,

For survival, we found odd jobs, taking us away, from the corner,

Stability, eventually embraced us, as we basked in it, surviving,

A repetitive daydream, but appreciative of our struggles,

So much so, that my brother got a permanent brand,

A small, black lettering tattoo, on his wrist, “For Survival”,

I suggested we get a drink, to celebrate, his fresh ink

As we walked to the bar, he stared through the plastic covering,

I gave him a slight nudge, and expressed

“I wouldn’t have overcome so much without you by my side. “

He smiled, nudged me back, saying, “And I without you brother.”

As we walked amongst ourselves, forgetting the rest,

Now after these eternal, winter months, that had weakened the carnage,

My search ended, towering over what was left, of my kid brother,

A monster of the sun, drowning, in the cold dim light,

Now in the darkest of moments, after endless searching,

With tears, building in my throat, I try to steady my hand

As I tightly grip my eyes, and squeeze, the heavy trigger,

Breaking the silence, followed by the squawks of scavengers,

Leaving me, to my memories, for survival.

Toychest

Childhood locked in a chest, stored in the dusk of the attic

And buried, amongst the years, forgetting the toychest

And it’s contents, that had been there, throughout his youth,

All that directly links, to moments, that kept him awake,

Deep scraping along his bedroom, ripping at the wallpaper,

Frightened in the dark, as the shadows play on the ceiling

Cast, by his perched toys, on his shelves that dropped to the floor,

The plastic rattling, as they slowly drag against the rug,

That even now, the white noise of his fan, drowns the memories

As he wrestles, with the chest, fighting the current,

As the chest, thumping closer and closer, shrieks,

Jarring out from this terror, in a panic, a cold sweat,

A sullen voice on the phone, conveying disheartening news

A trail, leading him home, after one, taking him into the distance,

A vacant house, of stale comfort and soulless posessions,

Nothing stirring within, touring his familiar, unrecognizable halls,

Then preparing to rest, in his childhood bed,

A distracted presence, occupying, his swimming head

Hearing that thumping outside of his usual nightmare,

Mimicking, his own heartbeat, echoing off the stripped walls,

He peers out into the dread, gasping, trying to regulate his breath

As he sees, the paint, melting away, up towards the attic door,

The beating getting louder as he nears, hypnotized

By those steady, groaning deep thumps, grabbing his attention,

Standing below its access, releasing the hatch

As he climbs, through the dense flowing dust,

Finding the thumping had ceased, not even a creak

Of the floorboards as he nears, the lowlit backend,

Finding his locked away fears, pounding at the silence,

The latch withers in his hand, letting loose, all he entombed,

In the darkness, the pounding that shook the shelves

Which knocked over his toys, and the scratching, at his walls,

Enters his chest, grips his speeding beating heart

And whispers to him, “Nevermore”.

Pleading with the Demon

Artist unknown

The rushing surge of guilt, hinders my feeble mind

As I stare, at my trembling, blood soaked hand,

I awoke from my paralysis, to find a disheartening scene

Splattered across the floor, viscious and animalistic,

Vague in my recollection, yet sufficient, to plague contriteness

As I drown, in the vivid horror of my wrongdoings,

How I tortured and mutilated, being amongst the wicked,

Vanquish my enemies, and allow me to proceed

Down, the shrouded path, far away from this stain,

An eternal echo, that calls to me, chilling my disposition,

It haunts my every move, leading me to a grave I’ve myself dug,

A corruption of my soul, within these bone walls

That I can no longer be surrounded by, its tightening grasp,

With every detail of that night, furiously engraved

Into itself, staring at me, an unforgiving surrounding,

Release these enemies from my crowded back

With more approaching my front door, weakened, by the ghost

That remembers, why I’ve fallen to my knees in this trench,

Trying to dodge paralyzing thoughts, anchored to the crown,

Living in this tangent, scratching at the complacent walls

Hoping, for a break of light to peer through the dense viscosity,

I can’t be here anymore, stranded in my own torment

Following my own deceit, deeper, tucked into the corner

Crouching, from an advancing, floating ominous veil,

Before me, the Demon materializes, fearing his words,

“I find it laughable, that you believe, your disguised penance

Will release you from your guilt, and even this cell,

For its you, who has attracted these enemies to your doorstep,

No demon was the puppeteer, during these heinous sins,

How many lives did you crumple, and stuff, into a box,

Rot in this cage, before you descend to relentlessly agony.”

The demon slowly vanished, leaving the man alone,

He looked around at the cold abyss, cradled his sorrow

And endured crushing solitary, fearing, what lies after his passing.

Death’s Keep

Art by John Kenn Mortensen

She reached upwards, for safety, with her peach skinned hand,

While reflected in the murky, engulfing sea, was death

As it grabbed her ankle, with its snake skinned hand,

Pulling her away, towards the abyssinian inferno,

Her soft, full of life hand, was eroding into nothing

As her savior, had no means of liberating her from doom,

Tying the dock anchor around himself, he dove into the abyss,

Without sight to guide him, he felt for her, but touched emptiness

Instead of the cascade of her embrace, as he was enveloped by distance,

So he slowly climbed back, onto the petrified dock

Where he could stare out, into dark and violent waters,

With waves, crashing ferociously, against the trembling banks,

No longer, could he hear her, submerged into death’s clutches,

But who could, over the constant crash, on the boundless battlefield,

Where soldiers, lose their nerve, standing at the crest

Being baited, by those lurking beneath the hollow surface,

And like those soldiers, he stood frozen in the unknown

That grasped at life, and dragged it through affliction,

Beyond his fear, there was his purpose, sinking rapidly,

And to resurrect her, he’d have to venture, into the deep.

~II~

He climbed into a beaten lifeboat, paddled, against the waves

Which grew in its brutality, but couldn’t restrain his persistence,

Onward, further from the platform, into the open grave,

Crucial exchanges of blows, paddle to water, overlapping

Onto the frail boat, as the waves, growling in their approach,

Fight to consume the traveler, in the sound of watery fury,

As he paddled, frantically, he kept sight on the horizon

Past the plunging valley, intertwined with waves,

Narrowly escaping, the clutches of the crushing drowning,

He found himself, in the abounding open, on calmer tides,

For it was, eerily quiet, no birds squawking overhead

Or the wrestle, of the current against the side of the boat,

Nor the paddle, breaking thought the surface of the water,

There was no sound here, as he yelled out to the Devil,

“Come back and fight me, for she is not yours to take!”

He couldn’t be certain, if those words, even projected,

Surrounded by the choppy water, beside him, sits his terror,

As a faint sound, flows, along the tops of the water,

A siren guide, appears, with no desire to be his aid,

“Hello, silly traveler, who has foolishly ventured too deep

For you do not belong amongst these riffs, reverse your path.”

“I cannot, I’ve come to retrieve a life, taken in error.”

The spirit chuckles lightly, pauses briefly, and echoes in response,

“Death makes no mistakes, precise, for it’s by great design.”

“She doesn’t belong beyond the black, for she is of great importance,

Your design is gravely flawed, and she must be revived”

She chuckles again, and comes in closer to the still boat,

“You believe, you are currently speaking with death,

That I am the one, who can revive life, to be amongst the animate,

You, silly traveler, are the one who is gravely flawed,

To death’s sunken dwelling, is no simple tiptoe trail,

Your vigor will be tested, before accessing the devil’s domain,

But I am curious, I’d like to see the outcome of this encounter.”

She floats her finger, pointing further, into the cold hush,

And told him to continue, towards the bleak eternal,

Then vanishes, with a nudge of wind, forcing the sail.

~III~

Alone, in the dusk, with the boat lamp highlighting solitude,

Silence reemerges, drowning the traveler in the ominous,

A faint howling silence, that seizes the boat’s motion

While the stillness, gets louder, and slightly more discernable

Each time a wave, subtly splashes along, the boat’s feeble side,

A voice, calling out from beyond the darkness, his focus

Searching for him, below the crumbling shed of light,

No, it wasn’t her, a voice that sends biting pricking needles

All throughout his being, shaking him down to his knees,

He now recognizes, his voice, that keeps repeating an utterance,

It continues to circle, like a pack of vultures, about to strike,

Suddenly, in a cold snap of a second’s tic, “You cannot save her!”

A monstrous echo, that sent a daunting chill, into his chest

At which he grabbed, and gasped for empty breaths,

Refusing to sink into the crushing deep, back against the wind,

The traveler stood up, grabbed the paddles and took charge,

As he noticed a slither, hastily warping the water,

Streaming like a torpedo, aiming straight, at the feeble boat,

With growing raging waves, so fierce, following closely,

Nearing the boat, with tremors from the speeding approach,

With the winds on his side, he evaded wave, after wave,

Until, he steered too far in, and was struck, by a forceful current,

The boat, reduced to splintered pieces, now floating, aimlessly,

As the traveler, tumbles along the stirring undercurrent.

~IV~

Waking up, after an uncertain, amount of time,

The traveler finds himself, on the shore, of a brittle island,

A voice, snatches his attention, spins him to face death’s throne

By suddenly booming, the very first audible sound

He has heard, since the first steps down this rabbit hole,

“Are you the bringer, of this, supposed force majeure

That believes, he can sway and overturn my mind,

No one, who is snatched into my web, ever gets released.”

Shaken down to the ground, with fear and anger battling,

The traveler, with only his eyes, looked up at the abductor,

“She belongs unchained, far from your dominion,

She isn’t finished, there’s more for her to accomplish

And removing her from existence, stunted her growth.”

“And why should I be concerned, her meaning, is minimal. “

“To you, she’s a faceless object, occupying space that’s irrelevant,

Except to me, those grounds she graces, are the purest,

This is my end, not hers, for it was my fault we crashed,

I hesitated, froze, at the barrelling trailer, stampeding,

And colliding with our vehicle, sending us towards the edge,

But a sudden collision, with the sturdy dock barrier

Kept me inside, while my little girl, had been taken,

As if I had willingly, given her up, to the black hooded cloak.”

“Your daughter, vacated existence, onto the carving of my scythe,

Could the devastation, really be boiled down to your failure,

Your weight to carry, as you suffer from the doom of the crash,

Yes, for it’ll plague your days, an exemplary hell, on earth.”

“Unless you take me, let me sink in the void forever

While my daughter continues, and lives out her days.”

A grumbling silence, as death slowly descends,

Coming, to face the traveler, standing on the fragile shore,

Still towering over him, death peers down to deliver a response,

“Two beings, swim in limbo, and I’d gladly swallow both,

But by design, only one is required, to fulfill destiny,

Which has brought you to me, pleading for her innocence,

To which I accept, for even death can be bargained upon,

Your journey was true, and not at all a simple task,

Look, for you have proven yourself, despite your crushing doubt.”

Death points at the rising light, as a shadow, alongside

Gradually appears, walking through, to the other side,

The traveler stares, as his travels conclude, and is finally at peace,

Death floats over to him, and softly whispers… we must go.

~V~

Her peach skinned hand, feeling the gentle cool breeze

Brushing by, and up to her shoulder, to perch,

She gazes out, into the swaying crowd of the ocean valley,

A whisper in gratitude, and a tear, for the one who sacrificed.

The Leech

Within the finest hair of time, I was discovered,

Although I was never actively trying, to conceal my path,

There was something, searching, for my incoherent scent,

While I, unaware of its stalk, proceeded towards uncertainty,

And because of one simple thought, there was blood in the water,

For I unknowingly, and loudly announced, where I was hiding

From the monster, that was hastily approaching,

And the closer it got, that simple thought, became complex

As it expanded, grew tentacles that wrapped around my brain

To suffocate the brilliance out, and inject a fierce infestation,

Each day, carried with it, another ominous drop that echoed

Once plunged, into the vass sonar, that was so brightly lit,

I presented the light to follow, all because I couldn’t hush, doubt,

And from that, it leeched onto me, and wouldn’t release,

It’s how I became to know this creature, as the leech.

~Living With the Leech~

Art by John Kenn Mortensen

Its constant breath, upon the back of my neck, makes climbing

To my deeply hollow home, so hauntingly daunting,

And even when inside, I still feel, its towering presence

Growing heavier, and colder over me, clutching tighter,

As I shudder in its grip, as it drinks from my weakened state,

I recall, revelling in the absence, of this slithering gloom,

A time that seems, indiscernible, as if that person is a stranger

Living freely in the abounding presence of light,

Now, my world has overturned, a gray and barren devastation,

I cannot see the leech, for it has never materialized,

But I have found drawings, others, that have suffered

From its latching, and its exactly the hovering presence

That has sunken me, into some sort of a paralysis,

Shades drawn, as it thrives, bleeding out my senses

But I feel its vampiric fangs, all throughout me, infused,

Where we have become, one, in this chilling dwelling,

~My Final Moments With the Leech~

Drowning in a sea, of the empty bottle’s breath

And a deep cut to my wrist, emptying out the leech,

Finally, it appears, wide eyes reflecting fright and fury,

Being constricted to me, it won’t survive, without the carrier,

Sometimes, you have to sacrifice yourself to save others

From the demon, hurting them, through you.

Crash Landed

Crashed down, onto a planet that does not exist,

A scorching dry terrain, engulfing, the fallen ship,

As the traveler, surviving the destructive landing, emerges,

Into a world not his own, as his eyes tremble, trying to focus,

Searching, for any sign of audible life, while trekking

Through the baren lands, of this unfamiliar expanse,

Where the sky above, even looks different, feels further,

With stars, aligned differently, sends the traveler into a frenzy,

Drowning in his hysteria, which grows in the padded cage

That shrinks, the more he finds himself utterly, stranded,

Lost, with no means of communicating, outside this deathtrap,

He’s frightened of the icy, slinky crawling hand of death

That could be around his throat, within moments,

As the howling winds spear, through the dense hopelessness

With the day fading, behind the unfamiliar horizon,

Just as the night’s crawling shadow, were at his heels,

He discovers shelter, an eerie cave, alone, staring into the black,

Painstakingly, slowly he moves further in, to hide for the night,

Sliding one foot forward, then the trailing one

Until he was fully immersed, the dark unseen,

Hugged himself within a crevice, of the coldly silent cave,

Thinking, he’d finally be able to take breath, without dense hesitation,

But a new fear began, one so crippling, he was even more lost,

While sitting, surrounded by the ferociously enveloping darkness,

A small spot of light, appears, dances along the ill of light,

The reflective shine, bounces off the longing, for light,

He was able to empathize with the light, the way it yearned

And feverishly sought out, for the openness, of the familiar,

Until the traveler drowned, in his own misunderstood, madness.

The Grim

I only started to die, when I met you,

Buried myself in the avalanche that I’ve conjured

From the panic, you’ve projected, out of my darkest depths

And into cognizance, which rattled around my haunted corridors,

So I knew, I had to protect myself

From you -a person I was supposed to trust, blindly,

But the realization stayed dormant,

For how long, has stayed in a heavily shrouded mystery,

But I’ve emerged, out, from my walking coma

And into a frenzy, to build walls, that you broke into rubble,

Resurrected instinctively, several times, only to be dismantled,

Leaving me, to defend myself, against a ravenous ambush

In the floating debris, of my shattered bunker,

How can I shield myself, against a friendly enemy,

So devious and cunning, for you knew my thoughts

Even before, they were desperately forged,

You must have engorged yourself in my habits

And now, I find myself battling my own tendencies,

There was no measure, for how much time had vanished,

Just the shock, of the icy cold water, swallowing me hastily,

Where was I, between the swirling consciousness

And the moment, your silken voice, echoed within my canal,

A blank space, that stretches further than any exploration,

Instead of fighting, against the toppling devour,

I tried to drown myself, with you hooked, into my deterioration,

But you helped me swim, as the waves crash against the frailty,

Dragging me against, and towards, an unforeseen end.

A Monster’s Sanity

~The Low Rising~

Blistering cold it was, the day it all began,

The clumped society wrapped in mounds

Of fleece, gloves, scarves -and themselves,

Some, more than others, who stomp through

Avoiding the excrement that they, in fact created,

Full circle motivation kind of thing,

But who are those, who ponder in the outer limits,

Not those who roam, with desolation

Consuming their minds, no not them,

For they stick up thier illiterate noses

At the stepping stones that crowd

Their supposed, high privileged feet,

No time to waste, steamrolling through to their perch,

Just to look down upon all those they crushed,

The degraded ones who still struggle,

Rubbing pennies together in their pocket,

Salivating over the idea of a hot, freshly cooked meal,

No bother to the Ivory tower, comfortable

In their bubble, but what if it burst,

What if someone was to slither through,

And remove a vital piece, from that skyscraper,

Would everything crumble, the whole structure

Of the privileged and all they hold so dear,

Who would even be brave enough

For such a task, as to take down the privileged

And show them the underbelly,

Oh but how and who, would lead such a movement

A revolutionary devious one, only to be jailed,

Oh, but how beautiful it would be to see it all, tumble down.

~The High Side~

Her phone has been stunted, and she reveled

In the solace of not having a surge of calls

And messages from missed calls, on top

Of text messages about those messages

After she had missed those calls -it was calm,

For once, she was alone with her own thoughts,

Quickly got bored, along with the song she was humming,

Started to leaf through a stack of paper loan applications

Until, she found one worthy of her weighed out time,

She noticed something in it, an error clothed and shaded,

But there it sat, pasted onto the page, and as she glared

At the ridiculous infraction, there was a rush of fury

Cursing, at her subordinates in her enraged mind,

Those beneath her, should have caught the oversight

As she grabbed her office phone, dialed feverishly

And awaited for the silence, just before sudden connect,

But it took too long, an automated voice recording,

She cut it short and hung up, spun around to her wide window

Overlooking the crown of the city

With the sun, just setting behind the mountainous buildings,

She checked her watch, crawling towards the end of the day

Praying the phone stays silent, as she stared

Repeating, “don’t ring!” over like it was her mantra,

And then, it rang, alarmingly jolting her from her solace,

“Now you call me back.” She said without answering,

“Its too late now, the application is submitted as denied,

And you can’t fix the mistake you made, not me,

Its almost five, I have a life outside of these walls,

If only you picked up when I called you…”

It stopped ringing, silence slithered back,

She smiled and collected herself,

Her jacket, scarf, gloves, and the stack of papers,

Dropped them all off, and headed out to catch her train.

~A Monster’s Fascination~

“There’s nothing better than feeling a heart flicker out.”

I said outloud and to myself,

Audible, so that I can hear the words

And as I sat there, I ingested those words,

Thought about each syllable and pronunciation,

Analyzed every pitch in that phrase,

All the while, it was provoking me,

The phrase -there was something about it

That drove me insane the more I thought about it,

I’ve experienced those words, ear to their chest

As the drum, after a loud rapid percussion

Stats to slowly weaken, bit by bit,

Yet, saying these words at a time of lull

Does something else, a feeling

That stirs in my gut, and echoes throughout,

Absent, from the world outside my infatuation,

Even the ringing phone, blaring,

Is muffled, inside my crowded clouded shell,

The urge grows and grows, bursting

Cracking the fragile shelled cave,

Sending me out from my solitude

And into materialality,

Walking, amongst the sea of ignorance,

Until I find her, the one that has no consideration,

Hiding behind her own pedestal, charging past

The mass, those she treats as the dense,

I use my charm, she falls victim to it, surrendering,

Without realizing, she’s in my grasp,

With my ear to her chest, listening

As the drum, grows faint

And I find, a satisfying end, to the quench,

For now, the urge has been hushed,

But it will bloom again, and then, the rest will fall.

White Owl

I appear to be, of relevance, as you rain tears upon your pillow

Held tight, as if it comforts your reverberating agony,

That’s crippling you, in your extreme emotional distress,

Begging, for mercy, but who do you suppose will listen

To an empty plead, being made only at a time of suffering,

Backs you into a dark, cold and wet corner, forgotten

Until you reemerge, and all is but an early summer cascade,

Then you toss aside your promises, and rediscover your torment,

Which brings you, to where I’ve surfaced, out from the umbrage,

Although I remain hidden from you, high in the rafters,

Listening to your saddening sound, as its dying,

From choking and gasping at the absence of relief,

As it overtakes the melancholy, hovering over like a disturbance

Bringing forth, the unsuspecting demon, ready to sink its bite,

As you lay in the still ocean, with a ripple from a single drip

Awakens your cognition, only to find your gaze locked

On me, staring piercingly, through the grey surface

Right at the demise, creeping out of your prolonged agony,

I am your moment of clarity, your epiphaneal light

Which you find blinding you, from the crack in darkness,

Trying to shield the fragile demon, I swoop down and perch

On the edge of lost and salvation, and putting talon to wrist,

Pressure from my touch, exudes the overbearing venom,

No words, for I do not speak in a tongue, you can discern,

Just my wide stare, that pervades the heavy oblique,

Bringing you forth, and distracts the lurking monster

Long enough, to carry you out from the impending storm,

I am difficult to conjure, but when a mind is at its weakest, I appear,

How long you’ve been falling, is what determines my success.