Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Daniel Samuelson May 2014
Semi-conscious, muddy clarity
voices like static
buzzing, monotone droning
singing, sustaining single notes
whispering their sinister intentions
or moaning, screaming
“Who am I, what am I, where have I gone?”

A single voice to clear the static:
I’m right here.”
A pause.
Right behind you.”
Unsettling and dark
dripping poison on his lips,
a serpent, fallen, far from a protector.

Breathing ceases, pulse increases...
So this is what it’s like to be seen by demons.
He stares into my soul, the deepest recesses
the darkness dressed in best intentions
the gilded rotting apple of my heart...
A final chilling stare
he fades away to haunt me in my sleep.
"Hypnagogia is the experience of the transitional state from wakefulness to sleep: the hypnagogic state of consciousness." -Wikipedia
In such a state a long time ago, I once heard a cacophony of voices, followed by what I've written. Very eerie. It's nice to finally get it on paper, though.
Daniel Samuelson Apr 2014
My heart,
a mansion made of straw:
Complex and
beautiful
but lit ablaze
by a single spark.
Intricate and
intimate
but bound to
collapse.
Spacious and
accommodating
but thin-walled,
colder in the nights.
Furnished and
ready for use
but over-staged,
exaggerated potential.

Do me a favor:
tear down the walls
burn it all, scatter ashes
that I may be an empty lot
to be renovated by an Architect.
I feel I fall in love too easily. Mind you, I'm picky beyond belief, but I think I'm just a hopeless romantic.
A poet in love
Is a match soaked
In gasoline.

-r0
follow my writing!

it will kick you in the diaphragm.
Next page