Dead World


What tells me to keep going
When all around, has dissipated
Into the nothingness of the apocalypse,
The skeletal streets and alleys
Stalk my unavailing wandering into the far
Glimmer of hope, sinking into despair,
The midnight drawl carries dread
That tonight carries into further nights,
Haunted in the ghost of eradication.

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

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 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.

Quote it: Edgar Allen Poe


You can spill blood of a tongue,
Onto the simple page
Blankly reaching for a pair of eyes,
Vacant of color and luster,
You can betray the fleeting sea
By sinking the shallow ship,
Shine light, upon the hidden corner
That has been lost in the murk
And no ship will sink,
No page will be left alone.

Long Way Down

It starts to crack,
Heavy feet upon
The fainting window pane
That he, weighs himself upon,
Forced and enclosed,
Looking for Houdini’s key
As the twisted arm
Of the counting man
Does not hesitate to tick,
Each crack bellows louder
As he frantically searches, for the exit,
The clocking hand racing
Towards the finale,
Eager to see him fall into the pit,
Where he will be swallowed whole
By the beast that stalks the end,
How can he free himself
From this entanglement?
How does he mold back
The glass that has suffered?
Feverish cracks continue,
Shattering the glass he perched on,
The click of the killer clock
Is gratified.

The Growing


Deep, in the forgotten,
Stems years of drugging,
Bringing to surface the beaten
That stands on its stiffened tears,
Lost in the collection
And it’s echo,
The growing
And bows,
The ashes fall around
Blanketing those underneath
And evading those outside,
Keeping warm the terrors
That keep the watchful one
Perched on bust,
The growing never rests
Suspicious of it’s friends
As he buried himself
Deep within hollow roots,
Its a lucid plane
Beyond it’s stance,
But the cloud’s brew
Thickens the gray,
As it shivers the dry growth,
For the growing
Sees further into the dirt.

She Smiles

She melts the shackles around my heart,
Rips through years of webbing, spun
By the evil doings of Sirens,
She cures the throbbing hurt that blinds a soul,
Illuminates upon the hidden crack
Terrifies away the stalking vultures,
She lulls and races the beats of my emotions,
Setting fire when I need it
And extinguishes too,
She loves me to no end
And I can see that all in her smile,
I’m better when I see it,
I’m home when she exhibits,
I look for it’s shine, in the crowded of moments,
Guides me to the place where I belong.

~Thank you to my love for the inspiration you give me everyday.

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.


He slowly presses open the heavy lids
Secreting the early day,
Bringing a stain
Into a hazy focus,
Filtering through the drenching fog,
He reaches out,
Brushes the brittle intruder
And finds it’s sharp stinking image,
The blur of its origin
Slowly pours into his memory
Calling him back,
To the sin of the apple,
The foul crimson grin
Upon his soul
Screams louder than the squawk
Of the perpetual mock,
Coming out from under the floorboards.