Tag Archives: Horror

Crepuscular

Good afternoon, everyone. Have you ever looked into the twilight? Have you ever seen them? Those crepuscular things… Perhaps they look more sincerely into you. Without further ado:

Silence of the Lived-In Ghost

No.

It is so.

They cannot see.

No, they cannot see.

Those things that find their way

into these eyes of mine.

They do not know.

How those ghosts cry out…

No, they cannot see them.

They cannot hear them.

Their cries,

their screams.

They cannot see those eyes,

the eyes of ghosts

inside their hosts.

I have seen the dark,

how those ghosts traverse it.

Caught between the night and day,

it’s past their time

with nothing to say.

No, they cannot see them.

But these ghosts, these specters,

they haunt my nights

and stalk my days.

Perhaps it is so

that I am among them,

watching and waiting

for my time again.

Caught between the night and day

in that little place

with nothing to say.

The Banks of The River Lethe

Good afternoon, everyone. You have died. You stand here, like those heroes of old, on the banks of that sacred river Lethe. Your ascent to the heavenly realms of Paradiso now secured, you step carefully into the dark and starkly opaque water. Your sins, desires and memories washed away in sacred bliss. As a child again, you are innocent, no longer condemned, but redeemed. Welcome to the rest of forever. Without further ado…

Settling Debts

Haunting orbs

drift across the water.

They come towards me,

stealing away my light.

I am fading.

I flash and flicker;

I am the torch over which your fingers

quickly pass.

The specters

take my flame.

They wear it

and make themselves whole.

I am as the hearth

in that certain dearth

that follows November.

Swept away,

is all my heat.

Through the mist

is seen defeat.

I know why they’ve come:

The debt of one infernal sum.

I cannot pay,

I’m ashamed to say.

This will make their day.

Dollhouse

Good morning, everyone. A little post-halloweekend post for you to have a little fun with. That’s my piece for today. Without further ado…

Collector’s Edition

This boy,

he sparkles in the light.

Oh, how the night

gives him quite the fright.

Scared and alone,

he cannot condone

dialing a number…

Hearing the dial tone.

There he is!

In that box.

So filled it is

with pus and pox.

Walls of glass

so he can see

as things go by

and things go past.

All the while

this placid smile

plastered with that porcelain guile.

Won’t you just… stay a while?

There.

By the window.

He sees your face go past.

Perhaps this time

it won’t be the last?

There abounds a certain sadness

within which lies a certain badness

centered on that box of madness.

These walls of glass,

these eyes of brass,

should not this boy be like a doll,

always filled with gladness?

Shattered Glass

Good morning, everyone. Walking through an abandoned house, creaking floorboards and shattered glass fill these decrepit halls. It is not dark, nor lit either, though it is not hard to see where you are going. You know this house, but you can’t remember how. Nothing to fear, and yet you are here, stumbling through a place where all the details bleed together. No, there is nothing here. Still, you must remain. Walk these halls and find all the nothing there is to find. Please enjoy…

Unknowingly

What am I?

That question,

age old,

which bears no resolution.

It has haunted me;

oh, how it has haunted me.

Ghostly shadows

twist and twirl

in spectral pirouettes

that draw my eye

to something Other,

something else.

Concentration fails me

as consternation fills me

and I find myself at odds

with everything that knew me.

It is the broken mind,

not the broken heart,

that bring the dead to bear.

It’s been a long time since I saw light in there.

Groggy

Good morning, everyone. I am tired today. New poem though! I hope you like it. Oh! I did see a guy who looked exactly like Jeffrey Dahmer. May have been his ghost. Who knows! There’s my funny little anecdote for today. Without further ado…

Groggy

Sick in the head,

but not as you think;

Tired, foggy, heavy and glum.

Perhaps from me it could be washed

with all those contents of a bottle of rum.

Tired heads bring tired eyes

and so forth pour those tired lies

from upturned lips that sink so down,

once a smile

and now a frown.

Wear a mask

and make your task,

feel it though:

The bite

of an asp.

This one’s going to make you last.