lights off
faces black
whispers turned to growls.
hands crawling on
the back,
in my mouth;
white eyes
dog-tongues
drooling faces
coming closer
STOP.
LEAVE!
ash-dark leaves
mocking teeth
skin-biting
heads-twisting
big-fat-dimlight fingers
eye-laughters
skin-deformed
yellow canines
ground shifting
cloudy night-sky
paralysis.
fingers locked-in
minds-vandalized
chest ponding
head worming
hands garbling
toes twining
Devil night.
~ A
Dec 15, 2020
Dec 15, 2020 at 5:04 PM UTC
welcome to my hell-house.
good evening,
shall ignite my soul.
curtains of wonder,
veiling my insecurities-
afternoon-evening-midnight-drawnbreaking;
am I alive, or
a mere slave to my consciousness?!
winters are my favourite season-
winter cold and late-night bones.
romanticising the
tiny, lovesick gestures.
I miss all my
ghosts that are gone.
hiding behind
every fold of clothes,
every shadow.
every panic attack,
every dawn.
I miss
the gentle strokes of wind
on my dry cheeks of nightmares.
but not the suffocation.. ***********
figures drooling
over the black walls,
the red-yellow strips
of brain-freeze whispers.
goodnight,
dancing fingers
of gruesome passion.
goodnight,
world of
pretty, bleeding faces.
mangled veins of amber.
~A
Dec 15, 2020
Dec 15, 2020 at 5:00 PM UTC
and then..
and then..
then, you're standing in the kitchen -
your weight on your left leg,
the fan blades consistently cutting the air,
the irregular mouse-clicks ringing in your ears.
tiny cockroaches hustling about;
pulse throbbing,
vision blurry,
sweltering heat,
thick-fat-scarred-thrawn twirling lines; vertigo.
dingy, yellow t-shirt.
rustling murmurs, dimmed out groans.
smothered, crippled deadwood flesh.
tongue-tied entreats.
head-splitting vertigo.
the boundless horrors -
of one, cold, fathomless minute.
it's cold now.
it's cold, now.
the white-marble floor of barren feuds.
I wish someone were to find me, this night.
tender arms of wordless embrace.
cradled in love, my soulful gambles.
Hold out,
Hold on,
Hold back;
Hold me.
God forbid, I long for thee.
I seek thy flickering emerald eyes,
tracing my lass-shaped solitude - wistfully thine.
to scream with terror -
the blubbering toys,
the warmth of doldrums.
late-November's mourning drizzles,
roadside affections; words in vain.
merci, O darling, merci.
~A
Dec 8, 2020
Dec 8, 2020 at 3:24 AM UTC