A shiver creeps right through the house
Searching hard for a spine so to tingle
It scuttles and darts around like a mouse
Hunting just for the right soul to single…

Out for its attention. Upon which to blow
That cold icy breath; to make shudder and shake
The one that it settled on never will know
Why they felt such a fear when not even awake

For it found them and used them
Wrapped and smothered their skin
Pricked and tickled their body during deep REM
A dream frigid and sharp and as bitter as gin

Oh the terror it gets you however you try
Shoots hard up your back as the strongest of shingle
The worst thing about it is you never know why
With your deep darkest fears it’s determined to mingle

©pofacedpoetry (Billy Reynard-Bowness 2018 – All rights reserved)

I took absolutely no pleasure,
Though I indulged.
That in the pleasure of temptation.
A sense of dread setting in once all the pleasure was gone.
Hidden from which I found through true pursuit.
Isolating myself to a single thought.
I found myself unable to change, chasing the thrill of pleasure.
I thought to myself was I this selfish.
To dance in the rain soon as melancholy shown it's head.
The drops splashing against the crinkles of my face.
I soon grew to admire it.
This self perpetual motion that insists that I go in constant circles.
A unlikely comfort that insured that I pursue even further.
What was this disaster,
Finding my reflection to be more than a mere crutch.
I looked left, then right.
Losing understanding of what brought me to this place.
This certain happening.
This part of me that must die. This certain part of me that's clung on to you for so long not knowing what is real, and what isn't.
Between you and I, I had no clue which harmed me the most.
The fluorescent thought of needing you more than you needed yourself.
In actuality it was simple.
Barricading myself in a room to stop this foolish act.
Somehow you'd still managed to appear.
I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I wasn't waiting for you.
The conviction shown against my reflection waiting at the window.
Awaiting your touch before I went into a coma like sleep.
I grew resentful towards the bright light.
Choosing to sleep all day, coming to life at night.
This part of me must die.
This ache that was only quenched by your touch.
I couldn't lie to myself anymore.
Committing myself to the asylum.
By tomorrow would be too late, regretting every delusion I've made to tear myself away from you.
Your reaction once you've found out what I've truly done.
Not only did I tear myself away from you, I've made myself welcome to the touch of your everlasting dark.
Such terrifying figures the dark makes once the light cuts off.
I feared sleep as your face was the only thing I saw.
My complexion terribly pale.
Just what have you done to me, seeking some kind of justification
I checked myself in hoping to lose sight of you.
Only to find more of you in each patient.
Each day I spent in here I found my face turning more pale.
I was indeed becoming a ghoul, concerning myself with one thing.
A source of some kind of help was needed.
Finding myself arguing with the vampire girl in the lunch room over her red Jello.
The way that it skittered in slightest motion.
The way that it looked while it dripped down her fangs.
I felt like the plastic cup that held the snack filled serving.
Here I was making the biggest mistake of my life, and you were nowhere around to offer a helping hand.
I took no pleasure in removing myself from you, but at the same time
I cannot live without you

In these halls of wailing souls
These halls of ailing babes
Stand I, to them, a fiendish ghole
Needles and tubes, different sizes and grades
Heartless, I ignore their wolf like howls
Gently readying needles of different shades

Their screams echo off these walls
My ears fold upon themselves, deaf to their fear
I must continue with my mission, discarding their shrill calls
I grab a flailing arm, steadily drawing it near
In goes my needle, liquid within, into ****** halls
In hope that their shrill cries don't persevere

In these halls of wailing souls
Silence falls on ailing babes

I ride a ghastly, palish horse,
his hair is ghoulish, sharp and coarse;

We ride upon the night: a rave -
no sound about us beyond the brave,
and the sighing dying no god could save,
but reaped and stolen by the glaive.

And fear in hearts of men we stir,
when I give my palish horse the spur,
and soundless shrieks of still and void
greet the darkness, overjoyed.

to wound me with an arrow
take a lurid one
you're high on the barrow
watching how scare I run

burst out of usual shadows
like one-eyed albino ghoul
only to see changing weather
by unintelligible rules

sick of Gulliver's syndrome
from living in a wooden box
where's my abandoned kingdom
I'm fed up with these rocks

so try to aim, warden
I'm not that beast of burden

they would've seen various city lights
danced under the stars
in the middle of the park at
midnight
they would've embraced each other
on a daily basis
palms colliding as their
fingertips intertwined
they would've exchanged secrets
without hesitation
snickering to relieve tension
they would've dreamed together
grasped opportunities
whilst remaining side by side
they would've grown old together
admiring how drastically their
surroundings changed
and how they succeeded in staying themselves
throughout everything
they would've lived
breathed
cherished
laughed
appreciated
loved
if he hadn't changed
if he hadn't noticed that he did