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Category: Poem

Tears well up and choked back. It’s not from an ocean
but my daemon who sits on top of that life and torrent
and ocean. That daemon who pulls me down, below myself.
That daemon whose voice I hear in the stillness of the


There is this harsh darkness revolving,
It’s eyes wrapped around me.
No good coming from the evil,
Night settling in for a kill.
Bastion of mourners cry for me,
As the stillness of sound beckons.
Follow the river that lies over the hill,
And it’s mouth be drowned in tears.
Wicked little boy stands on the bridge,
Casting stones on to passersby.
For the lightning that will strike him
Shall surely strike me with twice the hate.


The end temptation

That evil whispering pursed
it’s lips and silently told
me yes, do it, do it now.
From that darkness I escaped
to lay outside its door.


I write

I write, when the depression slows upon me.
I write, when the paranoia beckons me in.
Who will be next?
Who will hate next?
Where is the relief?
I write, wondering why it is this way.
I write, wondering why it is born again.


There is great seclusion inside me,
a hollowness that haunts and twists me in the wind.
I feel time-worn.
I feel brittle.

My heart throes with an arrant sadness,
a pit of death inside my depth-less conscience aches.
I feel anguish.
I feel stricken.

Lamentations of a lonely soul,
a desolate past, uncollected memories.
I feed abandonment.
I feed abdication.


My body stands on earth,
my soul in hell.
I hear the screams it makes,
burying my body.
Those screams can’t block them.
Those screams just hang in me.

The shivering never stops,
cold holding me tight.
I want my soul back,
to arise above, not below.
Those screams heard alone.
Those screams demonic hate.

A body shakes from the sounds,
fighting it away.
I keep asking for it to stay,
not at all knowing why.
Those screams echo when gone.
Those screams to kill me.