The noonday demon striking at midnight,
The end of daylight, shadowing my cove.
A journey solitary in obnoxious overtures,
Or of demise denouncing such pails of ruin.

The noonday demon that dwells in my head.
That black cat of old, it looms large nigh.
Insignia, memoribilia .. it's scriptures swell.
Inscriptions in alien hand scribble my mind.

The noonday demon pushes me on edge.
A hairlength between relapse and freefall.
Arbitrary insignificance caress my nerves,
Neurotic endeavours imminent, and I halt.

Halt for thought, convictions sedate.
Paralysis;  onset of dementia ensues.

And the noonday demon
Gobbles me up at midnight.

Don't touch me by the tender points
It hurts more than a soul can bear
Be gentle lest the pain doth spread
It moves me on to silent tears
Don't judge me as I let it pass
Let me lie down in bed & writhe
And wish for a reprieve of sorts
Or drug that cures me of this plight
How 'd you know how much it hurts
I have faked on a smile and laugh'd
Sanity hangs loose on edges now
If only I could alter the story's draft
Yet, clarity missing from how it ends
Unforeseen misadventures lie in wait
I have learnt to be at ease; with ache
And strife, this life & dragging weight

Oh, how forgiven are we in death,
A price to pay, in the loss of life.
Oh, how unloved when we reside
Yet remembered so little, as we die
Living on in memories, of a few
That had, in life.. subtly touched us
And then cease to be, immaterial
Like many a soul has, before us.
Tragedy is when.. misunderstood,
And never were they, ever heard.
Tragic lives, and disavowed care,
And never was a beautiful word,
Catered to them, in their winter fair.
Do them a favour, and heed 'em well
As they .. in flesh, still breathe in air.
Do not,  please cry out in penitence,
And don their graves in flowers, rare.

I was burnt to the core,
In the seething sun's fire.
There was ash all across
Aloft eccentricities' desire.
Sprawling nebulae of blue,
Lasting more than a flicker.
It was light years, I flew,
Mad lust, none did figure.
Fierce love for the ball
And the fire in it raging.
As I crashed at my fall,
Just to rise as an aching.
Blackened coal, elemental
Ashen gray, smeared rife.
Thus I ran, and fell waning
And wax, till exited ..  life.

Eerie when it's three twenty-five
In the mornings of a nevermore
Fiendish powers dwelling inside
Awakened in a feverous implore
Darkness harkens souls to stay
When in an illuminating twilight
Subconscious turns ashen gray
Plants suffering a certain blight
Sleep had long not hypnotized
Nights, they pass in dry spells
No ravens come a tip tapping
Upon my mind's sly betrothal
Yet, the witching hour beckons
My brain has a way of knowing
Night, just half of it is passed
Rest half would be my undoing