Where I Came From

Art by Annie Owens

I thought, that an old drained shed, would never

Break me down, but here before me,

Protruding out from the unkempt valley,

A collection of wood and nails, held loosely together,

Where I, used to bury my head, to hide from the monster,

Part of me, still hides, too afraid to face it as it slumbers,

Drifting past me, as I stare at my reflection in the murk,

Locking sight with me, as she transpires onto the shed

To be face to face with who I’ve lost,

Drowned in the crumbling quake of devastation,

It all starts to flood me, a crushing stampede of memories,

I watch myself being hollowed out, a pumpkin on Halloween

Excavated of all it’s guts, gobbled up by the monster,

His meaty paw, swung to and fro, striking the porcelain

That he kept, in it’s place, on that high, cold shelf,

His breath drifted, and filled the dry shed,

That stench, was still there, trapped in the dead grsss

And trees surrounding the forgotten place,

Forgotten, until I returned to find her waiting,

Crying for this moment, to be picked up and carried

To the distance, where she can be reunited, with herself,

Me, in my incompleteness, which I’ve grown accostmed,

Never would have happened, if the monster still took breath,

Yet, I still smell him,

Feel him, on the back of my neck,

He’s engrained, into every twig clinging on to it’s branch,

That day, that I left all this to rot in my mind

Has held up, to haunt me and entrap what I left hanging,

I left my weakness to fend for itself, which crawled

Into the deep darkness, to age into it’s own monster,

For I can never escape the punishment

Of never being able, to rescue myself.

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Monstrous Tale

A monster among strained souls
Far beyond, the moon’s horizon,
Yet, illuminated is the sinister
Orchestrated by this beast,
Stretching it’s grasp over the land,
Word of this growling shadow
Quickly pervades the glooming ruins,
Stricken, with fear amongst dying light,
Huddled together in muffled breaths
As slow, thunderous steps
Crack the floor above the frightened,
Pulsing through the solemn echoes
Of shaking whimpers, the monster,
Claims its victims, shredding existence
In the embers of a smoldering night,
Far into the bleak stripped town, lies
What all dread, a crushing loss
Haunting the endings hanging by string,
While scraps of a pendulum, decays
Slowly in it’s pit, beckoning for light
To flush out the horror residing
In the deep nightshade of my mind, Taking a sip, from the brimming cup,
Aiding me in my transmogrification
Into what has terrorized, this empty village,
Into what has bled fear, in cold eyes
Resting below my growling thunder.

©DorianPoe 2015

The Bat Shrieks

She presses around soaked pain
Within hollow hours of this
A stained distressed moon,
She avoids the piercing glowing stare
From that scornful bat, residing
On the sharp edges of her world,
It shrieks, quaking her heart
As she caves further into herself,
But how long, can she evade it’s glare
That scratches at her dungeon door,
The perpetual filth of it’s torment
Barges in, crushing
The already fleeting light,
Hanging on to a fading ledge
As the bat shrieks, echoing
Off closing walls,
Of the eclipsed cavern,
The bat rips her strength, shaking
Her existence in the eternal dark,
The bat shrieks, forevermore,
Reaching out for her
In the imbalance,
Where she wrestles with the affliction
Never able to rise above,
But how can she, when the shrieks
Throw cold steel
Through her ailing beats
Spilling under the floor boards,
Cursed to be in the shadow of it’s wing,
She holds onto the past, one moment
That has held her,
Intact within the echo
Of the shattering shriek,
She grips the lost clock
Against her abducted soul,
Hiding, within the silent thump,
Yet she plummets into the red waters
That perches above her,
Latched, in the hold of it’s scowl
Hypnotized by its crowding villainy,
She has spiraled into the bat’s crimson
Not knowing the way out,
Frantically chasing after its shriek,
Being sucked into the vortex,
Forgetting the moment behind her
Only seeing, the monster
That hunts her.

Rest in peace

image

How do you deal with your monster?
Do you cling to the Jekyll moment
Praying for the hulk of your emotion
To subside in the tepid sun,
The monster, drags it’s fingernails
Along your fragile glass, scraping
A design of madness
To the answer rattling, in your hand,
A potion syntaxed in the nothingness
Of insomnia, the dying light
Lost of rage,
Rest in peace.

The Nurtured Monster

Stab upon the weak,
Motionless in dirt
As their blood slithers
Around the anthill,
Following the path of the killer
Staining the trail of breadcrumbs,
Charming the blood snake
Into the grave,
He smiles at the grizzly sight
Finding his lullaby,
He has satisfied his lust for death
Between meals of the glutton,
As the parasites eat away
At the fragment of sanity,
Making his craving insatiable,
It claws at his chest
Ripping him from the inside
Until,
He feeds the monster living inside him,
Losing chunks of himself
Sacrificing it down to his fevered seed,
Sprouting throughout him,
Taking control
Never letting go of the wheel,
Fully immersed in the lunacy
Of the poison he ingested,
Jekyll, no more,
He lives in the metamorphoses
That he subjected himself to,
Death is his love,
Death is his drug,
Death, is his beginning,
And it needs to be his end,
A sliver of what was
Climbs its way out of shrouded villainy
To stab weak
Inside.

Awoken by Fear

He whispers out to her, from nowhere,
Terrified of the shadow
Cast by a stalking reach,
The glow emanating from beyond
It’s stance,
Entrancing her closer,
Trembling, in the warmth of it’s breath
She looks down
Watching, her feet move
Against her own resistance,
She knows she’s at the door
Of it’s stolen domain,
She feels it’s presence crushing her
So much, no sound echoes
When she opens her mouth,
The sleek brush upon her arm
Makes every hair stand at full attention,
She shoves, whips the door closed,
Runs to her bed and finally shrieks!

Her mother sloshes into the room
Sits beside her little girl,
Assures her that there are no monsters, Kisses her on the forehead
And tucks her in.

The closet door creeks open,
As a hand slithers down it’s side,
Stirring the fragile silence
While keeping her, in the gates
Of the monster’s eye.