Running down
twisting,
spiral passages.
Nauseating,
treacle covered corridors.
Feet sticking,
sucked into the floor.
Disorientating shadows,
send me spinning,
seems like the demons
are winning
and they are coming back for more.
Try to talk but my voice
feels muddy.
Cloying and stuck
like I have a hair caught within my throat.
It comes out in an echoing,
contorted choke.
Distant and distorted
like it's in another room,
covered and hidden,
walled up and boarded.
To stop it being heard through the gloom.
The clocks are
spinning wildly.
The clockface dripping,
hands waving frantically.
Time makes no sense
it seems.
It's crawling after me now,
with ferocious teeth and a vicious growl.
The place falling to pieces at the seams.
Things are happening
out of order.
I'm in a room,
then I’m not.
I’m finding It hard
to follow the plot.
My vision is melting in front of me
like smoky recollections
of soon forgotten dreams.
The demon awaits
Standing 50 feet high.
In front of fiery gates,
he points my way in
and into dust he evaporates,
but instead of a fire filled world
I awake from the nightmare
into my own bed.
My clothes smell of sulphur
and sweat drips from my sooty head.
Thanks for reading
Please take a look at my new collection "Torn Pages"
100+ all new poems not shared here before.
https://tinyurl.com/KCtornpages
No comments:
Post a Comment