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Hadrian Veska Nov 2023
I could feel the cool damp air from outside
A gentle weight on the skin, a particular smell
The smell of a night stretched on too long

I tiptoed across the carpeted floor boards
The house was old and I knew it well
Every little area it would groan and creek

I was moving slowly but urged myself faster
This wasn't like other nights, half asleep
Wandering to the bathroom at the end of the hall

No, the house is empty, or should I dare say was
I felt a presence so strong, yet undefinable
As if something was nearly upon me, only breaths away

I avoided deftly the creaky areas of the floor beneath
I felt the give of the wood beneath me as I reached the stairs
This would prove far more difficult to be silent for

Standing at the top I contemplated running down
As fast as my legs could possibly carry me
Somehow though I knew it wasn't the right choice  

As I made my first step down there was silence
I breathed in a sharp silent breath of composure
Continuing to the second step, I winced as I heard a creek

But I stopped and lightly tested the step again
The sound hadn't been caused by me
Quickly my vision darted upwards towards my room

At the far end of the hallway where I had just left
I saw something, a blur like a thick vapor
The shadow black wall behind obscured it

I had no time to peer into the darkness
I sped up, step by step by step
31 steps in total all without a sound

Save for the floor I landed on in my haste
The old house groaned beneath my weight
My neck chilled as I gave in and ran

to be continued...
part 1
Francis Oct 2023
I’m tired,
Want to sleep.

Stop laughing,
As I weep.

Stop hiding,
In the corner.
Stop lurking,
Like a creep.

The only way,
To rid of you,
The only way,
To sleep.
I’ll draw you,
‘Till the crack of dawn,
To satisfy your needs.
This takes me back to a time in middle school when I caught my best friend (at the time) compulsively, discreetly drawing this eerie, disturbing doodle face on the bus ride home. I asked him what he was drawing and he said that it was this kid named Cornelius that comes out at night in his room. According to him, Cornelius said that only way he’ll leave him alone is if he draws him a lot. To this day, I can still draw the face he drew, and wish I could share it with this poem. This unfortunately made us drift apart, as I was too disturbed to remain in contact.
A-McIntyre Jul 2023
welcome to the horror show
where webs from spiders
stream and flow,
where witches fly upon their brooms,
offering poisoned apple brew
where monsters play
where shadows dance
where screams are songs of violence
masks go up, horns and crowns
running running, away, around
sew your ears and pluck your eyes
this is the only way to stop your own demise
birdy Apr 2022
Widow me of your gaze,
ugly *******.
The whistles of birds,
are torture from ***** mouths.
GaryFairy Mar 2022
I have created a new breed of spiders. They are so tiny that you can barely see them. They enter the human body and eat you cell by cell. I call them cell dwellers. I do not need any more test subjects to prove this...I just need to feed my little friends...
They breed fast
I saw your blood pour down into the abyss, it danced like a river of abundance. I saw them opening their jaws, drinking it like water of vitality. I saw them leap for joy as they bathed in your crimson rain. You laid there beside me, pale and cobalt. You lay so free, you lay so pure. I touched your skin and my fingertips froze, your soul had fled. I felt sorrow, I felt pain. That night I died with you, I stuck the knife to feel your suffering, I stuck it deep without any shame. My eyes fogged as my final exhale misted the black air.
This is sanctity.
Alpha Jan 2022
You are just a marionette
In your masters deathgrip
Release yourself and make it
To the other side
The refrain of a hip-hop song I wrote some half a year ago. To my shame, I wrote it on a memo in my phone which I soon lost. The memo, not the phone. Still, the text is gone, and this is all I remember. It wasn't that virtuous anyways, and still it's a shame...
Mon Amour

When a man whispers
"His feet hurt, and his shoes
are too small and
he's forgotten how to dance."
He prays noone else
understands his dilema,
nor what this means but I do.
No moon rises betwéen his
lowly stinky creepy
femfatales shoe-less other.
My moon spins way up higher
in orbit serving mystic functions
and our moon glares
in each others eyes
as our breathing sighs in love.
True love is our vine that
reigns in us as gravity rules on Earth.
With trips to nowhere and back
In love and without presence
I remain lost and found
a restless Angel.
Mr. and Mrs. Andrews
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