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

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A Fly on the Wall

Riddles infest my burdened, insomniatic mind
Watching, the fly upon my wall, how bored
It must be, peering down at a dented bed,
Then wondering, why not find a more appealing scene,
Am I that entertaining, swimming in misery
Of the mocking tick coming from my bedside clock,
There goes another hour, debating the shit eater,
And just like previous night’s, I’m consumed
By the deep labyrinths that I, trapped myself in,
Until, there came a knock upon my door,
Not the front, but my chamber door,
Despite its haunting peculiarality, I opened it
Finding only an empty hallway, dark and cold,
Silence echoes through, this eerie vacant hall
With my heavy breath fogging my surroundings,
Chilled whispers reach out for me from behind,
I back in, to my chamber seeking for what has crept
Through my gates, and into my unrest,
I feel my entire body, tense up from a horrid chill
Pulsing me up against the far wall,
And then, it appeared to me, in the mist of my breath,
My floating demon, keeping me from dreamscape,
Jumped, into my chaos within, amplifying it,
Until I imploded, forever asleep.

What is normal to the fly,
Is chaos for the spider.

©DorianPoe 2015

The Hunter and it’s Prey

An abrasive squawk, barges in
To a tightly grasped serenity,
Always distant,
Running into the depths, from it’s
Predator mocking a chilled turmoil
Is I, as I hide in the mid summer’s
Night garden, from the dwelling beast,
Sniffing out, my dread,
Where is my resting scape,
As a vanishing point, loses sight
In the crushing waters
Swallowing, the unattainable light,
Silence in this wrestle,
As I plot my stiff, weary bones
Beside these huddled stones, upright,
Tall, as they seclude my pant,
But for how long,
How much of the sand wastes away
Before my hunter, catches wind,
How will I know,
Will it be when cold fire seizes
My heart, in the howling echo
Of the collapsed pendulum,
As the vacant chime, of a halted world
Shines just enough light,
Upon me,
Found in muddled fright,
How long will I do this, hiding
From the stalking truth
That I, am a stranger
Amongst the living,
So I rise arms open as swift wings
Of my scrounger approaches
And carries me away,
Into the ambit.

©DorianPoe 2015