Spiralling out of control towards armless hands of bones. Flexing finger tips grab to bore at my flesh.
A sunken fever brings false saviours. Hope built and collapsed in flashes of imagery, used to pollute the faith.
Out of nowhere I am caught. Is this reality or another method of torture? Part of the punishment of this realm. No this dream’s real, I am touched by substance wiping my brow, mowing away levels of uncertainty.
I am higher now, feeling cooler above the clouds. A burnt smell furrows my nostrils. Panic sets in as I scour my surroundings. It’s not me but my protector whose caught by the flames. Wings are singed, though the descent upwards doesn’t waver.
The climax wakes me cold. As my mind blinks to work through reality, a figure in front of me bows, and evaporates from existence. There was no expression, but this essence produced no fear. Now i know blind faith is real, as Angels have no face, just a presence of hope.
Sleeping on half a sofa
Trying to ignore the stink
Shutting out the noise
Of her throwing up in the sink,
That was last night
I came to help my mum
I’m scared now that she’ll die
she’s only sixty one,
A victim of a craving
A drunk slave all these years
And when she shows remorse
There’s vodka in her tears,
I fear it’s nearly the end
All alone, she will be found
And when she’s laid to rest
Alcohol shall pollute the ground.
Choose to climb
and escape the stone walls
that close in
like a dampening breath to the neck,
The goosebumps are real
coldness can’t be faked
neither can the dread which creeps from below,
Move or perish
from the hesitant pause
that captures indecisive minds
freezing the will to submission.
Or leave it to fate,
Let go and fall in to emptiness
become weightless in body and mind,
Float down star shaped
with eyes unable to close
as you look upward bidding farewell
part of the punishment of surrendering to hell,
Light dissolves in seconds
free falling in to darkness
to an eternal expanse.
Deviant whispers from nowhere
keep you from sleep
A choice to make,
Fall and drown forever as a prisoner
or climb and fight.
The fog lifts only to the night
The mist clears from in front of my eyes
though I cannot see.
For I am trapped, trapped in a cocoon of fragility
vulnerable for all to see,
blind to rational choices.
The windpipe of breath closes in
causing abject terror to rise above a level beyond fear.
Strangulation of silence surrounding me
accelerating the heights of animated terror
blurring the once serene view.
The immediate future laid out in front of me,
safe but grim,
Immortal, though cold in mind and soul.
Brainwashed in waves of furious emotions,
rippling in, clear as truth,
a foul lifeless premonition
with empty thoughts never raising suspicion.
Living on the edge of nervous foundations
hypnotic to a ritualistic routine.
A follower of a secret-society cult
living in my mind
closing the shutters on life
creeping in secret backdoors to the soul
whispering fairy tales not of this world.
I choose not to listen to my demons
the minions that celebrate death and filth,
along the path towards damnation.
I shall confront the architect who paved the road to my own inferno,
the Emperor that feeds on sorrow.
Though he bares my face,
shares my image,
he is dark, and I am light
I am day, he is night.
The only way to kill this cursed reflection
would bring death upon myself.
That is what the martyr craves,
for me to release myself of life
give myself forever, and be immortalised to the dark.
I will not succumb to this outcome,
though I know as long as my heart beats
the war will never end.
But when it does,
it shall be fate’s will that takes my last breath,
as I rather live with this heavy burden
than lighten my heart prematurely.
My interpretation of the downward spiral towards a mental hell. An out of control feeling, which at one point a choice has to be made; to start climbing back up or let go of the ledge to damnation.
The first draft of reflective imagery that invades my mind.
Point the forks upwards, forcing the inside temptation to scream and surrender under the guilty burden, invisible shadows climbing on my back. The weight shrugs as a reminder not to proceed with the idea of liberation and freedom. It’s part of the torture, the false hope we feed on for survival is desired of course, but only left for balance, for sanity to stay before Hell is reached. Turning downward facing obscene flames which spit obscenities, hurting the soul and spouting the stench of foulness like a spike billowing the winds of heart strings.
Prying eyes look on as a devils intent. Look is a stab, a stab cutting the Flesh and swallowing entrails of red and gold. Flashes of yellow signals the explosion of the soul collapsing inward, shades of grey elope and revel in the mix of light. In my head a giant, but not necessary a tyrant, though the horns and hanging flesh give away past intentions, and deviance outgoings. Will his look spill towards me, igniting the hunger in the eyes. Or maybe I’ll be spared, increasing fear and anxiety of the soul. Part of the torment. Being flippant with lives. Being a false remorse, leering at me, the prey, the gift.
Spinning discs pass my neck with a flys width. Razors designated to maime and cause surrender. My face blanches, filling the bottle before it’s spilt…
Modern times where kindness is in ration
We‘re all looking for a wide range of compassion
People sitting on top of their own domain,
In generations, the self-fish will remain,
Spreading in a world full of noise and hate
I just put reality, in to words that can translate.
Don’t look back in pain, anger or regret
Go with the gut, seek out the missing outlet
One chance, one choice, be very wise
Time’s too short to live by disguise.
The lessons in life react when quiet
Tune out the noise, release the riot
Don’t listen to the negative and sour,
They’re scared you’ll make your finest hour.
Thoughts are thoughts, the character is true,
Show compassion to me, I’ll show it to you
That niggling passion, go see it through,
Overall message, live for what you’re destined to do.