Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2017
Ocular cavities were vacant in slumbering,
for when the twilight of death exhales on
nightfall, they exhumed from there cages
of waking moments, eye lashes no longer
bars of there keeping. Now pliable in there
movements, optic nerves were there
renderings. Staring at the dismay of there
awaking, they ventured upon a world a static
silence and they hungered to visualize.

They looked upon each others vision,
heads of ocular circumference gazed as if in
headlights. Leaning so slightly distorted from
the others leaning opposites of others motions.
Inclinations were observed as a scurrying ventured
with there distance and they attained to have this
morsel as a pet. Each mimicking steps as if symbiotic
in motion, this new addition to what was perceived
and many that walk the halls in the censorship of volume.

The night wove upon there longing to visualise that
not seen in the slumber times. Many had gathered upon
there motions upon cold floor boards. But they became
restless in the motion and knew what must become of
those in there care. That which was there reason for
vacating there prison to feast upon others sight.
One after another each insect was now unfulfilled of
pools of view, now vacant tomes of emptiness.

Littering the floor some static others roaming in
abandoned motions, colliding upon another
they vented out. No guilt was seen in this pools
of blue as they watched until the last one became
as the others hollow of life for it had bled tears of
dismay upon the floor. But time is a ***** who peals
of in front of you never regaining what had parted.
Light was echoing its arrival through undisclosed
segments not hindered it shone abundantly.

Without thought, instinct took over as they ascended
upon the bed quilt. Moments were corroding in front of
them as light motioned towards an awakening.  
But they clambered in slight motions to not awaken the
exhaled slumbering's. As each opened the bars, so gently
so not to observe in hollow pockets there undoing.
They inserted themselves once again into this confinement,
knowing that they would have no motion only seeing
what they saw prisoners of reality.

As they awoke eyes feeing dry, drops descended into this
pools to awaken them, and in confusion a insect leg teared
outwards. Curious he motioned with silent expressions.
Unseen to him under the dresser was the killing spree of
the slumbering time. No glasses did they were 20/20 vision
they could see like a hawk. But unbeknown is the fact that
others pay for this precious gift of sight. For one must
consume others pools, your have skeletons deep within
yours. But you'll never know, for what happens at night
are vacant visions that see things differently you know.
Poetic T
Written by
Poetic T  On Oblivions Doorstep
(On Oblivions Doorstep)   
491
     Kelly Rose, Melissa S, --- and Poetic T
Please log in to view and add comments on poems