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.

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.

Knots Tied by Devil Hands

A whisper, stalkingly crawls into an unsuspecting ear,

And once inside, it becomes the sole audible sound

In its suffocating world, drawing in nothing but white noise

Surrounding that once distant echo, able to slither through,

The room, begins to feel more cryptic, as that hissing voice

Creeps louder, buzzing in the canal of a tortured soul

Who closes his eyes, and hangs by a steel noose,

The outside, falls silent while drowning in their own hands,

A sea reflecting the pitch night, swallowing vibrance

While it searches for its next drifter, floating along the tide,

And it does, like a sonar, as a tear crashes on its body,

The devil in the depths, tying firm knots for clouded minds,

The high water is at the brim, about to overflow

From all those, who have drowned, seeking sanctuary,

At their hollow gasp, he hands them what they seek,

A bound rope, eager to send them to the engulfing gallows,

A chill, rushes over them, as their sight struggles,

The sea, has claimed another, washing away from existence,

Leaving all behind, finding no answer, only guilt

For more of an open hand, diving into to their darkness

Kept unseen on the surface, kept to be, their own demise.

Finale

The curtain is kept drawn, with Darkness
Peeking through slits, stealing Glimpses of the estranged, riding
The swaying chair, carved by suicide thoughts.

Beats upon the chest,
Thumping echo of the final drip
Caught still, while clenched eyes
Fear to open.

Panic in the cold morning,
When death becomes lucid
And less haunting, instead
Of uncertainty, you’re captured
In the spill into the everlasting moment
When we find ourselves lost.

©DorianPoe 2015