Category Archives: Horror

Peaceable Prognosis

Good afternoon! Today is a good day. It is ever so softly raining while being warm enough to walk around without a jacket. I have a lot to do today but I feel prepared for it. I sat beside my open window last night as cool springish air wafted in and over me. I felt strangely at peace. My worries had faded and the world seemed so much more right than it had in a long time, almost as if that moment would last forever and ever, infinitely calming. The world melted away and was replaced with a sense of togetherness I had not felt for a long time. I realize now that dreaming of peace is no fruitless endeavor. It is attainable, finally. Without further ado, a poem about losing your mind.

Mindfulness

therewithin

therewithout

extant sin

scream and shout

flies filed away

rife with decay

stagnant water 

mosquito fodder

crawling on your skin

skittering in your ribcage

visions of infernal djinn

that demonic necrophage

it lies behind, ever so slightly

pittering, pattering, ever so lightly

controlling cordyceps

hearing footsteps

when mind you’ve found

you’ve lost your mind

Ready, Set, Lose

In the words of a man who may or may not exist, “If you ain’t first, you’re last.” How can you feel what it’s like to win if you’re not the best? What’s it feel like to be at the top? The bottom? With no way we can all be first, let’s talk about what it’s like to lose. How’s it feel to never be good enough? To never be the first pick? Even the last pick gets recognition. But what does it feel like to get picked third to last? ———PS: Follow and share links are at the very bottom of every post, near the comments, as well as ways to donate at the bottom of the about me section if anyone would like to support my writing further. Thanks everybody for the resounding support I’ve had so far!

Stasis

your strength fades

no light behind the eyes

all that’s left are shades

all that’s left are lies

growing and multiplying

now metastasizing

weaker and weaker you wane

as your disease waxes

christ alive

lost your drive

hope is gone

missing the sun

muscles atrophied

bones of glass

pallid face

and glossy eyes

still breathing

light already leaving

you lost the fight

how pathetic a sight

Drifting Down The Styx

Good morning! To do good, to do evil, which do you strive for? Which do you avoid? Imagine for a moment, a world in which you choose to do neither. You live your life wishing you had made another choice and in the end you wish you still had choices to make. Imagine living your life so as to have been sent to the Fields of Asphodel.

The Fields of Asphodel

cloaked and faceless figures drift around you

aimlessly

formlessly, shapelessly

drinking from the river lethe

you are no one, not anymore

glancing down,

glossing over grey grasses

flattened under foot,

softly swirling dust devils

tickling with soot

you do not hunger

you do not thirst

you shuffle, without suffering

no atonement

no respite

your mind a haze

you’re caught in a daze

almost, in the distance

you can see… something

too hard to focus

you’ve lost your locus

crossing beneath vaguely outlined equidistant aqueducts

already forgot, always forgetting

you did not good

you did not evil

and now the consequence

you’ve arrived at the boundary

of the fields of asphodel

Exciting Times.

Afternoon, everybody! Super Bowl is going on today and as a Cincinnati resident, I have got to say that I am incredibly excited. Tonight is gonna be more fun than any game I’ve ever watched before. Now, in the spirit of watching from afar, I have a poem about the very thing. Not a particularly long one today but I’d hope it resonates with you like it did with me.

Watchers

many times i have looked into this mirror

never before, in the dark

i peer into this shallow silhouette

lacking outline

betrayal of a third dimension

stalwart, formidable

the sight of this black hole man reveals no truer insight

simply feeling

vacuum

absence

void

he watches

waiting

always waiting

in the dark

Total War

Good morning, all. I find myself lacking a lot of motivation today. A fighter who lacks the will to fight. What do you do when you know there are so many battles ahead of you but all you want to do is slink into the woods to be a mushroom farmer? You become a writer. Enjoy the poem today, gang.

Thereupon

verdant fields

broken shields

shattered spears

tired fears

i lie upon this wild green

cradled by red-soaked grasses

shivering and shuddering, unseen

worried i won’t find my glasses

shallow, fluttering breaths

we understood not our trespasses

blinded by ancient shibboleths

now enveloped by black masses

without mouths they scream

frothing lips and gnashing teeth

gnawing at my every seam

come, come, come, they seethe

smoke rising from a burning bush

bayonets and boot knives rattling, clattering

once i pricked my finger upon a rosebush

i don’t remember so much blood spattering

far above within the clouds

a face i see so fair and free

yet i lie broken on these grounds

having incurred one final fee

it starts to rain

a gentle mist

as terrors wane

a calming tryst

thereupon those verdant fields