It's gnawing at his bones,
and clawing at his spine,
he knows he's not alone,
but now is not the time.

The woman behind sings,
broken voice brings life like spring,
enlivening his actions,
but stressing her malefaction.

He'd been running for years,
or at least, that's how it felt.
Despite his eyes' red tears,
and skin starting to welt,
his drive had never reared,
but soon, to enervation, he knelt.

He fell into the leaves,
pain stung like blades unsheathed,
now too faint to run,
he peered up to the sun.

Then, the blue turned black,
he heard a familiar chime,
he knew, his lover was back.
She heaved her axe one time...

He still lies in the leaves,
no more cries or screams,
he speaks only silence now,
in a place that won't be found.

-Under the iceberg.

There is something I must get off my chest,
A few nights ago, I browsed the deep web.

Curiosity got the best of me,
I had to do it or Id go crazy.

I saw many things I can not unsee,
Endless horrors still living in my pysche.

I couldve stopped anytime, actually,
But instead, I chose to stay glued to my pc.

Now, even though I witnessed obscene ****,
I dont regret what I did, not one bit.

O traveller, when will you return to the origin of your being?
Reality is what you are and a reverie is what you have been.

Your similitude is to the moon with its varying phases,
ever luminous but with lasting traces.

It is the origin from where you started and it is where you will ever arrive,
though it is a thing mysterious but you have never failed to strive.

So I ask O traveller, have you earned for what you strived?
Be content O stranger, for to the origin I have arrived.

The matchstick is kindled and I dwindle at the thought of meeting my end,
as nothing is permanent and has  to be sent.
Nothing was yours as it was lent.

Life is nothing but an enjoyment of delusion
seldom have you heard this been told,
so intensely think and do not be so bold
to amuse everything that is being told.

You do not see but it is a heavy load,
so be more kind than you are cold.
For everything has to wither and grow old,
surely seldom have you heard this been told

-Nightmare

Around 8 in the evening,
Johnson had woken up screaming,
Because he underwent a nightmare.

His soul was in deep distress,
So  he attempted to suppress,
What had just given him quite a scare.

What on earth did Johnson see?
Haters of Christianity,
Burning in hellfire and in despair.

Tick and tick
as the clock lingers
I stare at the candle,
the candle that incinerates
to bestow me with light,
the light that I gave up on,
at the first breaths of this night.

The granite
beneath my feet
sidles and erodes
with every passing second.
and I peer at the ceiling
yearning for somebody
to provide
one helping hand.

Never have I
longed for sleep
as of this night,
for its been months
I crave for it's sight.
But then I see him,
right before my eyes
as if he were the only moon
of a million skies.

Like a blooming lily
in a puddle of abyss,
He sleeps right before me
wrapped by a quilt of peace.
I so envy him
with every bit of my might,
for I lack what he holds
despite how hard I fight.

And to perplex me
and to add to my fears,
a voice inside me groans
while yelling
"How can you sleep,
when you haven't woken up
in years?"

Now he stands
the only one
who knows how to sleep,
so I keep asking him
but to add to my miseries,
corpses do not speak.

So I keep staring at him,
while this one question
gulps me down as a whole,
"Why does a body sometimes die
leaving behind it's soul?"

-thewordplayer

As the man on screen aims
His rifle towards the zombie's head,
I picture myself holding the pistol
To mine.
Tighten my finger over the cold trigger.
Pop
The popcorn in my microwave
And dust on the shelves
Are all that hits my ear.

I'm fighting the zombie.
The sunken eyed ghoul that
Haunts my mirror.