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Sonorant Nov 2021
I. Phasmophobia
I am the innumerable gloom of dim, long-buried anthems.
In wistful suspension, I shadow over a living loft in silence.
Tethered between lines, my fog bleeds on panes in knocking
Hawking your dimming faces in the lamplight of my genesis.
Torn the tunnels of their astringed throats, a requiem is reaped.
— ”I was a shape moving rapidly, nervous at the edge of your vision.” -Cynthia Huntington

II. Claustrophobia
I am the small match ignited from the depths of your mind.
My walls blanched absent of evacuation, self invite into
Your personal and private violation, invading every fissure
With icy burns, solidifying your chrysalis on hungry bark.
Your frozen God of smothering doom, a willow devours you.
— “But then I remember the universe was closed, and so very small. There was really no where else to go.” -Peter Watts

III. Ommetaphobia
I am the stricken, scarlet cloth coalesced of cruelty and ichor.
These rawboned talons, cloaked thereof, overtake embrace—
In coarse delight— a piety of prisoners’ silver stark sights.
Perceptive cavities leak my garb as my artistic blade sweeps.
Plucked from the dredges of a briny skull, two diamond orbs.
— ”The hearts hushed secret is in the soft, dark eye." -Letitia Elizabeth Landon
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IV. Monophobia
I was the cherished friend to you, my twine stitched in your grasp.
A golden balloon unaffected by tides of time and distorting gales.
Alas from this intimate atmosphere shot an arrow, poisonous
Where silently I erupt into a missing memory upon the wind.
As your curtains close, you breathe for me, without a hand to hold.
—”And all I lov’d, I lov’d alone.” -Edgar Allan Poe

V. Arachnophobia
I am the legion of soundless beholders aloft your dormant dreams.
An itch scattered over the crooked spine, arid for pulsing melodies.
This fruitful sapling beckons each dark, angular limb near your neck.
As my lighting strikes erratically, your foolish impulse slow to clutch
Creeping necrosis bestowed by the guardian who claimed your home.
—”The Spider taketh with her hands and is in king’s palaces.” -Proverbs 30:28.

VI. Agoraphobia
I am the ancestral abductor of this rotting womb you deem a shelter.
As the embryo held within, I contract you into tides and bid ‘swim’.
Directions devoid, beyond bolted doors, you plummet to my depths
Where you wish for comforts’ wind but mislaid the method to breathe.
My otherworld encompasses you, whilst I drink in your suffocating.
— ”Mother is the name for God on the lips and hearts of all children.” -William Thackeray

VII. Ecclesiophobia
I am the black shepherd in martyric masque and a mitre casque.
A discrete imminent sheep cowers, hanging on the hook in my gallery—
My chalice congregates your pure liquor of laments for libertine luxury.
I rise where you fall and smother the lantern of your last mortal minutes
Instilling final grace in the stillness of your veins, my kingdom reigns eternally.
— ”Suffering can be a gift.” - Abbie Bernstein.
Hex Sep 2021
High upon the hill it lies,
Forlorn in darkened dour,
Praised by many, known by few,
The Castle Glora's Tower.

Hoisted high upon the ridge,
The shining beacon's hope,
Left to rot in the abyss,
The Tower's mithered scope.

Penned upon the rotten pages,
The cries, the screams, the wails,
Bereft deep in the antique annals,
That of which, all now hail.

Stones that hold their secrets,
Like a note contained by twine,
Still held to its defiled name,
Stands Glora's Tower, divine.
Silence is still...
A Rose thorn ****** into the darkness of the night.
Ghosts and ghouls wander a yard of thee,
ones who sheltered by the tree, 6ft yonder.
A veil blows as the river flows,
lost bride who can't find her ride.
Chills of the midnight light ***** down
unto your spine and you begin to run,
but their following you, chasing you-
and they won't give up until you're out of luck.
Angels fall and lose their wings to grow again and recover
their ancient beings of heaven's dream.
Silence is still,
Morning comes to greet you,
and all the spirits of the night find a place to rest,
until the next time, they may deplete you.
NOTE: The day time is beautiful, but the night is when magic happens and all things truly come to life. All the memories, spirits, time lapses of horror and pride, come to haunt you or love you. It's up to you to decide your fate.
nick armbrister Jul 2021
Gothic Black
What will tomorrow be like?
We have to get thru today first
Then we can see what it’ll be like
The same old crap or different?
A perfect utopia of happiness
Or a black ash filled world
We will see as the days die
Night becoming the new normal
Some think tomorrow is now
And only darkness will reign
Like some scifi horror story
With us as the characters
All soon to perish in the night
I look forward to that world
More gothic than black
MAJOR INSOMNIA
CORPORAL SLEEP
Nick Armbrister and other writers
Hex Jul 2021
Cycle, cycle, cycle.

Heart a flourish, mind ablaze,
Up-and-comes a tainted gaze,
Wander into Des' maze,
Living hours, counting days,
Everlasting, fleeting phase?
Watch and wonder who you praise,
When consort becomes disciple,
Cycle, cycle, cycle.

Apathy, our fragile doll,
All we seek is all we stall,
Rather wait, or rather bawl?
Yet I sit, and here I scrawl,
Watching me, fly on the wall,
Watching me, apathy's thrall,
When idle becomes idol,
Cycle, cycle, cycle.

No, no, it cannot be,
Through my eyes, you cannot see,
No, no, you mustn't flee,
I still wish yet to be free,
No, no, hide the key,
Keep "out there" away from me,
When denial becomes recital,
Cycle, cycle, cycle.

Circle, circle, spin, and stop,
Stop—to reach towards the top,
Don't repair, just reap your crop,
Stop—downward you may drop,
Water falling, wet blacktop,
Stop—Lest your mind is prop,
When a spiral becomes spinal,
Cycle, cycle, cycle.

Don't deny the heart the mind,
With repentance comes the bind,
Ears are muted, eyes turned blind,
Connect the eternally twined,
Don't embrace—forgive your grind,
Lest you put your past behind,
When survival becomes revival,
Cycle, cycle, cycle.

Cycle, cycle, cycle.
AKA Exolvuntur In Aeternum -- Read three times for full effect.
Svetoslav Jul 2021
Crystal flows on a ghost lake
sun is reflecting
and spreads through steamy souls lake
Sonorant May 2021
Souls, once one in the sun,
Now reach for fallen stars.
Ludic, hopeless fingers—
G r a s p i n g
For a sole thread of truth.

Don’t fly too close, little firefly.
For it’s flame shall render
All your desires and dreams
To spurned puddles of wax.

D r i p p i n g

In these wrinkled hands
Formed for puppets
A silhouette on the sphere
As the Earth only knows,
The darkness it adheres.
Hex Apr 2021
On a night where no moon shines,
I lie and brood in my confines,
Nocturne's wolf has come to dine,
Gnashing canines with sharpened claws,
Over is night--devoured by the maw,
The wolf opens wide, an unhinged jaw,
I stare in awe, in saccharine fear,
A beastly roar is all I can hear,
Yet I feel no pain--Only a lonesome tear.

I open my eyes to a room bathed in black,
On the floor is a woman, in a dress of lilac,
She stands with a shiver, and turns me her back,
Dark hair covers cracked skin--porcelain but soft,
She stared at me gravely, shaking oft,
Then slowly she danced as I sat and watched,
She twirled, pranced, and spun, but once she botched,
Then she sat, knowing night had its victim notched,
The Ballet of Shadows had come to rest--
     --but not yet had my final test.

I slept again, and woke in the dark,
Now, there was a mirror, a saviour from stark,
Painted in white, it was fit for a monarch,
On top, a remark, a blackened skull,
My reflection itself, appearing so dulled,
My face was blank, and emotion was null,
My eyes were closed, but I could still see,
As I watched my smile twisting with glee,
And crimson nectar leaking through teeth,

The mirror shell cracked, my nerves were wracked,
From the mirror I retreat, but with me it backed,
My instincts raced, my psyche attacked,
The me in the mirror began to convulse,
Quickening was the beat of my pulse,
Beating like drums, a rhythm repulsed,
Then it stopped, the mirror froze,
And off to sleep I began to doze,
Not before my mirror had one last prose,

One finger raised--be silent, mouth closed.
An experiment with dark and disturbing poetry. Let me know if you think you can decode this one.
Nickolas J McKee Mar 2021
Let me die in your arms,
As I take my last breath.
So jovial of charms,
Like the first day we met.
True of time I missed you,
Nights crying of you gone.
My lost heart to you grew,
While angels cry a song.
Least not you forget me,
Your eyes knowing mine dark.
Feared above not to see,
Flying high a sad lark.
...Death close to your dear chest,
I will take my last breath...
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