A Tale of Designed Fate

He stands, at the muted green door at the end of a long

Flickering hallway, as the pulsation grows louder,

Stretching the corridor out from the diseased shadow

That awaits, for it’s fragile knock to be answered,

A twinging pitch floods his ears, crashing him to the cold tile,

His cheek fused to the bleak slab of ice, squeezing

Tighter, the more he struggles, as heavy thuds approach

Opening the aperture cover, but he’s below it’s view,

As the slice from the swinging cover bounces

In the crowded echo, slowly dissipating, abandoning

This crippled being, as he pleads with the inner infestation

To stop, while it eats away at him, slowly tearing

Up his insides, a violent intruder gorging themselves

On his meat, as he hunches into himself, agonizingly,

His cries, shatters stone within, yet it’s hardly audible

To the rat with one eye, peeking out from the crack,

Studying this tiny feeble twig of a man, even to the rat

He was of equal size, still a savory meal for the starving

Salivating rat, surveying the man as it moves in,

Out from the latent space, into the open twitching hall,

The man on his side, his translucent back to the vermin

Slithering closer, unhinging its jaw, to sink its diseased fangs

As the man, with his fleeting energy, gets on his wobbling

Brittle knees, at that moment, finds the charging fester

Gnawing at his arm, and immediately swipes

But the rat, does not detach, finding nirvana

In the flavor of decay, until the poison reaches

The rat’s tongue, recognizes the sensation and aroma,

Lets go, and slowly climbs down while wiping the blood

From its sinister grin, as the man, out of breath rhetorically asks,

“How does a disgusting creature seem even more crude?”

“You should really be viewing your own reflection

Before referring to anything else as you so politely said.”

Surprised that the rat responded, the man scurried

Back against the spinney wall, staring intensely

At the one eyed speaking rat, moving closer whilst saying,

“Now, you must be thinking you’re feverish and delusional,

An outburst from your paroxysm, festering in your brain,

Still unsure if you truly hear me, am I truly coherent?”

Shutting out all his surroundings, he tried to regain control,

“No, it can’t talk, this disease has invaded my sanity.”

“Sanity! Such a lucid concept, where you don’t question

What is laid out right before you, like a talking rat.”

“I just need to speak with the designer of my doomed fate.”

“The demon, behind that door, barters for your life,

But what are you willing, to throw down at it’s feet?”

Silenced by the rat’s inquiry, the man searches his haze

As he bares emptiness, for all he possesses is villainy

Anchored, to his eroding ravaged wasteland of a corpse

Dragging itself through the internal seething, trembling

In the bleak, falling without making any sound,

Grinding bones upon the stone irony, of his own existence,

A painfully blank expression, stretched across his face,

As the rat stares at the stunted crippled husk

Before it, who could be taken and stripped of value,

And the rat, could not let the opportunity slip past

Without getting it’s share, and there was one item it desired,

“Don’t worry, I’ll prime you for your interaction

With the beastly puppeteer, for a specific trade of course,

I want your left eye, so that I will be whole again.”

The man pondered, contemplating his daily routine

With one eye, then contemplated killing the rat

After he got what he needed from the it, and agreed,

Still hesitantly, how can trust be granted to this vermin,

Yet, he leapt and acknowledged their temporary bond,

Then the one eyed rat, sprang into action, vanished in through

The crack, between the bottom of the fortified door

And concrete floor, then the man heard scratching

Along the portal from the other side, scurrying to each lock,

All along the entire length, clicks and clanks echoing in the hall,

Creaking slowly was the door, as man quickly hid,

“Rat! Those locks disturbed silence, has the designer awoken?”

“You worry too much, we mustn’t delay your sacrifice.”

And as soon as the last syllable was uttered, the rat was gone,

Down the gullet, of the designer, towering over the man,

Panning up to his wide, glowing, red eyes starring back,

A hideous collection of acquired eyes, frozen in decay,

Trapped, in the thick web, of the designers face,

“What for do you occupy the space in front of my door?”

“Sir, Designer, a bargain for you, I’ve come to ask for my life,

In exchange, I present to you something of mine you desire.”

Saliva dripping from the designer’s mouth, a runny faucet,

“How do you know, what I desire, are my lustings generic?”

“Not in the slightest, the rat you ate possessed

This information, from being a dweller, inside your walls.”

“Now inside my stomach lining, an appetizer,

I’m hungry for my entree, entrance has been granted.”

The designer moves aside, and waves in the weak link,

A still hush, inside of this bland cavern, on the 17th floor

As the designer, leads his new guest into the drawing room,

Filled with occupied parchment, lives all sketched out

To every plausible end, as well ones as far fetched,

The designer dove back into his sinkable couch

And looked up at the scared, shaking, bag of frail bones,

“Lets see if this rat was true, present your offering.”

“The wretch you devoured, explained your cravings,

So I offer you, my heightened sense of touch.”

The designer sat up, never removing sight, not a single eye,

From the shrinking man, as the designer got up close

With a dastardly grin, sniffing for truth in his words,

“No one, has ever offered their own fragile touch,

Do you know what would be escaping, from your senses?”

“Yes, I lived with endless scratching on the sensory walls

As crimson, pours out and builds up, over my gulping breath,

I’m ready, to lose the razor shards streaking my insides.”

“Pain, is a touch that gets louder, the more you ignore,

What of the sun beaming warmth, while a cool breeze

Rushes by, pushing you closer to the sweet scent

Coming from her flowing hair, and you sink in deep,

You might dissolve pain, but you’ll regret the hollow void.”

The man looked down at his hands, arms and feet

Thinking how he won’t have any feeling, he couldn’t,

Just as he was about to rescind, the man awoke in his bed,

Looking for the designer, but he was alone,

No tall gruesome foreseer stalking in the corner

Sucking on his blood soaked fingers from eating a rat,

But then he noticed, he couldn’t feel his warm covers

Tucked under his chin, or the bed he laid upon,

He tried to brush his hand along his arm, felt nothing,

No pain, or even the water beads from his morning shower,

It was done, deal made, regret had crashed down,

“I wish, there was a way to know, you’re in the good ol’ days

Before you’ve actually left them, because somehow

In the darkness, you know exactly when you’re there,

Those moments stay with you, attach themselves

To every unstable vessel, crushed in the avalanche.”

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Ode Before Dying

Death before you, and you’ve lost

The concept of how to act,

A slab of marble, chiseled into absence,

Stif, barely able to move those frail lungs,

Gasping, for something stranded

An inch away,

Losing color, in the uninspired slop

Upon your bored plate,

A tick, forgetting to tock and so forth,

Or can you not hear it’s song,

Falsely clapping, as the curtain drapes

Over you, over a hollow echo,

Death, therefore I swallow, and choke.

Conversation With Death

There, untouched by the setting fire,

Gliding, above the trembling lake was this, overbearing

Shadow, approaching me, sitting under

This sickly tree, in the midst of a rolling fog,

As the shadow came closer, it formed a shape

And then, before me, darkness appeared,

But I was not afraid, I welcomed its bleak emptiness,

Yet an enigmatic stillness grasped hold,

Chained me down to the soil, I followed it’s approach,

Until death, rose over, pleased to be in it’s presence,

Huddling softly to its cloak, eager for the finale,

“Waste away, you’re not yet joining the forever tortured.”

It spoke, but it wasn’t audible, I heard death in my head,

Which felt like a blast of jagged chill,

Eating away my insides, as I stared into the hollowness

Peering through me, why has death emerged,

“Why count the falling leaves, and dismiss

The sunset, which begs for your attention,

Instead you loiter at my door, sinking into a stale image,

You’ve allowed an infestation, in through your picket fence,

Followed by attacks upon your house, fallen

Into this swamp, slowly succumbing to it’s drag.”

“It was the only way to move on, to bury her memory,

I rather not have, loved and lost,

Only to walk lost, pretending it was the better

Side of this world’s spectrum,

I believe that it would have been easier, never exhaling

From taking in her sweet scent,

And shattering every broken piece of bone,

My senses taste her sweet vanilla, that drifts

Into my haunted consciousness. ”

“Those shackles, tightly clasped, are of your own design,

Destroy them, and move in through the brume

Out into the perched orchard, as you crane your eyes

To the sullen shores, as the water kisses the warmth

And sizzles, yet you distance yourself.”

“You judge me, thinking I haven’t lived,

Well I did, with her laugh, echoing in my evacuated mind,

And I rather transpire, than search for her unique likeness.”

“One person isn’t a life, when the world is comprised

Of a slew of differences, which is left behind the blinds

That you seem to be lost behind, scratching

At the grave, you’ve unearthed.”

“You stole her away from my heart, and dragged her down,

So yes, I sat here marinating in this melancholic setting,

Waiting, for you,

To display your weakness.”

Within the moment, my hidden blade,

Tucked into my sleeve, reflected death’s fright,

I slashed at death’s open light, killing the darkness

So that I, can assume the mantle,

If you don’t evolve, then you die.

Blinded

Within her own mind, the world

Is exactly, how she left it, an eroded vessel,

As she became her own empty room, hollowed

By the revolting scenes, highlighted in the flashes

Of immeasurable detestation, and there she floats

Amongst the rubble, her hands stretched out, reaching

Beyond the veil of black, infiltrating the ghost,

Shackles upon her eyes, hides an unclean Era,

A design defect in humanity, a false prophet

For whom, they eradicate for, but who is this savior

That channels themselves into the facade,

Not just a glimmer of their virus, but an apocalyptic

Strain running through Pomplona, ravaging,

The earth, crumbling beneath her,

Tremors, surging through her from the mass panic,

Cries for light from those lost in the shroud

For her, to come and filter out the pain,

But she has absorbed too much, drowning

In violent waters, barely staying above her suffocation,

Until it all consumed her, trampled she still bears

All the affliction of the world,

For everybody knows, that a broken heart, gets blind.

Come Back

The reality of death, is the stalking feeling

You get, the little hairs stand at attention,

And you freeze inside, vanish into the distance,

But somehow, you’ve come back, you haunt,

A ghost story, perched upon its past, what it misses,

Eager to feel it against its bust, to sync with the heart

That gave you a louder drum, which has failed,

Torn and rusted over, but you persist,

Getting louder, squawking until it all shatters,

Yet no one notices, and you refuse to abandon

Your post, ignoring the flaws that tarnished

Your feathers, streamed down, from your black eyes,

You’ve come back, but your ghost is a withered memory.

Other Than I

Time, within the possession of me reaching the far edge

Of the train, has vanished from existence,

As well as the recollection, of this blood stain

That appears, not to be my own, as well as the blade

Carried, in my trembling hand, also bathed in the unknown,

I can hear my heart’s chatter, louder than the metal clanking,

I throw my sight, from side to side, trying to gain a sense

Of what lies behind me, a puzzle, missing its fragments,

As panic, digs it’s talons inside the teetering tower,

I wonder where my mind had slipped to,

Had it betrayed me in my worst moment

Only to awaken me in the dark depths of chaos,

Suffocating in my own narrow gullet, lost inside,

I have to shed this skin, and can’t let myself be seen

As I peak through the crack of the door sliding

Opening wider, with the grooves of the tracks,

Seeing a deserted hall, creeping out deeper,

Into the shrouded gallery, pushing through the shackles

Held firmly, around my entire person, hindering

The way forward, oozing through, to the next car,

Finding a place, to cleanse the black eye,

I get in, and immediately lock the door

And just stare, at myself in reflection, and I’m unrecognizable,

Who is this before me, possessing my heart,

That seems to be moribund, pale, faced with horror

Spilled upon myself, unable to wash it all away,

A knock upon the door, but I cannot find my voice,

The handle rattles, as the knocking continues,

Getting louder, deafening within the stall

As I feel my blood, a fury cooking up to my pulsating mind,

And then it ceases, releases its fist from my throat,

But then I see myself again, pooled in more death,

With the body next to me, with the knife I firmly held

Now driven into a man’s skull, with fear frozen,

My expression is vacant, drugged into a lost fervor,

I make a discovery, hidden within my breast pocket

As I retrieve a wallet, alien to me, also stained,

Inside it I find the owners image, and I recognize

The face, in a flash I see myself boarding

And into my vision, this man appears with a smile,

Introduces himself with a hand upon my shoulder

Guiding me to his quarters, where he rips into my head,

Diving into the recesses of repression, and discovers

My hidden desires, my anger, my violence,

And brings it back to life, I am not I no longer,

And I come back from the cloaked memory,

Studying the sight of me, my eyes, fingers and lips,

Are those other than I, I am now a person of death,

A walking scythe, alluding the fear I once cowered under.

Amongst the Living

She slips into the veil, picking out her outfit

Carefully, peering out from behind her mask

Taking in sight of her facade, her entrapment,

To lure the already damned, into the dismay,

The devil, finding the crooked outstretched hand

Searching for a glimpse of light in the stormy alley,

But only she bears shelter for them, inviting

Them out from the oppressive rain, and into the orchestra,

All the lost souls, sitting with their errors as the score,

The hum of the emptiness spotlights over their heads,

The devil peeks out, standing amongst the living,

Tapped the batton, for attention, and forced their scream,

Salivating, at the release of their fear, into the air,

She feeds on those floating orbs, absorbing

Their strength, sucking them all dry to ash,

Wisked away, with a gust of her whisper…

“You’ve been emptied”

And all those, who once were, shattered apart

Sprinkling through the depths of a continued fear,

While she, the devil, continues amongst the living,

Soaking, in the middle of the soon to be lost

On the ballroom dance floor, in front of the full orchestra.

Trail Through the Dark Forrest 

A frozen grasp runs down my throat, 

And into my heart, clutching it, hindering 

The procession, an inkling of what lies ahead, 

The dense silence that echoes in a swarm, 

Cannot perturb my anxious forage 

Through the towering darkness, haunting 

Every step further into desperation, 

Short strides against the grain, into the growl

That enters, from the darkest depths, 

Time speeding to its end, a rolling mist slinking 

Into my sight, as I become the missing one, 

Photo wrapped onto posts, I cling onto the trail

Vanishing beyond the lost, seeking out for me, 

My light starts to fade, crippled in the dread, 

Everything around me starts to blend together 

And no longer do I have a path, 

No longer do I need it, 

An intense burning cold surfaces, 

Am I still going into the abyss, floating 

In the black hole, bringing me to reveal 

What I’ve searched through this abandonment, 

The sinking ground that has consumed so many, 

But I’ve unearthed it, only to be buried, 

Slowly lowering, closing ends to the Everlast 

And concluding with contentment, the trail 

Has claimed its loneliest victim. 

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.