Cold fingers touching glass,
As snowflakes fall on moonlit paths.
Frosted eyes glazed with care,
When teardrops stain the pages here.
Forgotten candles drift with steam,
In silent wisps of solemn dreams.
I trace the mirror,
fogged from breath.
Where baby rattles echo the gasp of death.
A lullaby whispers soft and slow,
beneath the dawns forbidden glow.
I hold your blanket,
Soft and plush.
The one you never.....got to touch.
~Zyhrenẞøng~
Mar 18
Mar 18, 2026 at 6:00 AM UTC
Staring into eyes,
Two endless holes.
Locked into the fall....inescapable.
Stance locked, mannequin mode.
Arm dangling limp by my hips.
Fear like frosted veins,
Someone moved.....yet i can't name.
Someone else beneath my skin.
Precision like a puppet string,
Palm forward......fast like lightning.
Wearing my hands like gloves.
Hwanon cōm sēo cræft? Nāt ic, ac hand wiste.
Hwæt wæs þæt þe mē āhredde? Dēop gāst.
Ðæt gemynd āflēah, þēah sēo hand āwēold.
~Zyhrenẞøng~
Translations:
Title: Body-Guardian.
Last tercet:
Whence came the skill? I know not, but hand knew.
What was it that saved me? A deep spirit.
The memory fled, though the hand prevailed.
Mar 18
Mar 18, 2026 at 5:57 AM UTC
No photographs left to burn, only the skin of a broken frame.
Scars lumped like melted glass,
As I whisper a name that tastes like ash.
Forebitten by a venomous kiss,
As my tongue traces a gendered crypt.
Etching pain with yellow bubbles,
Words blister hot and heavy.
Bubbles burst, not with ****
But rather poetry on walls of dust.
Ribs cracked like fractured teeth,
Spilling ink for who should be.
My heart is withered, no one sees.
The ghost that holds her name between.
Where screams meet breath, and death can bleed.
~Zyhrenẞøng~
Mar 18
Mar 18, 2026 at 5:55 AM UTC
Galdorcræft Þære Forscruncenan Tungan:
🜐 Follow Sagitta, the Arrow
And you'll find truth like rotting marrow.
Where a zipper is pulled on secrets you keep. 🜓
Opening like a sideways grin,
Each tooth torn asunder.
Cracked like bones leaking,
And kissed by corpses with a hollow hunger.
Beneath the willow's sway,
A hanged man speaks truth within decay.
Each word spoken,
A crimson letter.
Listen to the vespers,
Ripping the sutures of the sin.
Creaking back and forth he speaks,
Of the knot your mother made.
As a blackened tongue will preach,
Of the wounded maw.
The man, the root, and the mouth-
An archer the same.
To speak the name,
The rope drawn taut.
To maim.
To aim, when stars align.
Now stories fly both far and wide.
~Ærinẞøng~
Mar 18
Mar 18, 2026 at 5:54 AM UTC
Six went over.
Six came back—
Six behind them.
Six more quacked.
Six were hexed,
Six were cursed,
Six were shadows that rehearsed.
The float, the walk, and tilted head.
The way she filled the graves with dread.
Six more waiting,
Six more fed.
Quacking softly in their beds.
Six would quiver,
Six would stare.
Six with mire eyes—
Just disappear.
Seven sat upon the log,
Five went drifting off.
Three just vanished with the fog.
One came back when mother called.
~Zyhrenẞøng~
Mar 18
Mar 18, 2026 at 5:52 AM UTC
When you said hello,
The void gulped.
What my fingers touched,
Merely your shadow.
And this is where I made myself at home,
Even so somehow now I'm cold.
The hummingbirds dont flutter past the shadow,
Your fingers claw at the space between.
Reminding me of what could've been,
Why i grieve even when you never left.
And I believed.
-FairyHeart-
Dying to
Reconnect.
Mar 18
Mar 18, 2026 at 5:51 AM UTC
When the other side knocks first,
Do you touch the glass...or step through.
Where teapot stain the tablecloth,
And riddles never quite apease.
As the clock in the pocket loses logic,
You're always late you see.
And it's hands spin widdershins.
Each minute drips like jam on toast,
As reason gets up and leaves.
With sugar cubes in a hat not a bowl,
A madman sits and taps a spoon upon his skull.
Who knocks louder?
The silence, or the door that isn't there?
Three breaths from the kettle,
And checkered tablecloth expands.
Now there upon it the queen still stands,
While her knights bend knees...or it's heads she'll demand.
The veil between grows thin,
And suddenly you're in your bedroom.
Yet so are they.
They ask which world you meant to choose,
And why you chose at all-
If here was there and there was here.
The tilted walls begin to lean,
Unsure what lies within.
And even so the cat just grins.
Yet though the room is yours again,
The grin just never fades.
For in two worlds with crooked walls,
Your choice was never made.
And somewhere in the corner's hush,
The teacup starts to break.
-FairyHeart
In the hush
of the mirror.
Mar 18
Mar 18, 2026 at 5:49 AM UTC
Blood starts trickling from vermilion skies,
As clouds of coal just float on by.
Lift the lid, oh sleeping eye.
See the scythe swing through the light,
blending darkness and pure fright.
Now find your face, shredded like cheese-
calcium exposed to the autumn breeze.
With a jaw locked by webs of gauze.
Spiderwork lace traces you, cold and wet.
while a twisted mirror whispers "you are dead.
Clutching some old horseman's head.
Heading home?
no not yet,
For in your hands is a childhood friend.
Now to dine with death......embrace the end."
With silent steps you wander on.
Each step a cracking stone.
As fingers stretch for the haunted hearse-
A somber song amidst the fallen leaves.
Where you see flesh-withered memories.
Past the crooked porches, where pumpkins do belong.
A twisted grinning chamber where teeth still linger strong.
They pulp a mush, from the brains they cooked.
Upon the candles flame.
To pave the way to winters very tomb, when dawn just fades to grey.
What is your name, oh master of decay?
~Zyhrenẞøng~
Mar 13
Mar 13, 2026 at 3:45 PM UTC
An anti-lullaby sung by something that once was human (or never was):
The Boneward Child:
Hush now little ones, don't frown.
Here walks a shadow in a white tattered gown.
One little spark flickers, framed in the iron cage.
Eye-light fading quicker on a morbid stage.
These steps only bring you down,
Blood soaked moss on ancient bones.
If you feel lost they'll lead you home.
Calaveras in a pitch black hood,
Around the crumbling corner embraced by soot.
Where withered tongues speak of times,
When jaws became severed if you lie.
Listen to the silence,
As the tongues turn violent.
Spewing forth vile psalms.
Even now your eyeballs fall like marbles,
Down a crooked hall.
Be not scared oh children of the fog,
Whisper now dear children and name the way.
Through the marrow cave,
To reach for the blade that light forbade.
Sleep now small one,
The grave is a portal to the secrets embraced by none.
~Zyhrenẞøng~
Mar 13
Mar 13, 2026 at 3:06 PM UTC
Open casket,
No body.
Just rhymes so tragic.
Just a couple leaflets,
It's storytime.
Folded memories,
Empty words and a cracking spine.
Rustling pages in the breathless sky.
Speaking from the lungs of trees,
As the paper bleeds.
Main characters always die,
Take a look around....
Is it a cemetery or a library-
Of stories never found.
Dewey's decimals mark the coffee stained covers,
If checked out what will you discover?
Is it lovers....or maybe brothers.
Can anyone still read the pages....
If they were exhumed?
Were we ever characters,
Or just ghosts of gloom.
~Zyhrenẞøng~
Mar 13
Mar 13, 2026 at 2:16 PM UTC