As a child we are taught to tune out
the static hiss of the universe.
That's why we dream of doors,
where doors don't exist.
Memories of places
we've never been.
A feint reminder
of a different reality.
We tune out the background sounds
of the universal churn,
we ignore the sound
of the earths slow turn.
We are told to ignore the imaginary
but where did the imagery
enter your memories?
How did it seep into your brain?
We dilute it down until
it’s just a feint scent in the distance,
the smell of rain on a summer’s day.
But through it all we see and hear, things.
Things in the distance, in the darkness.
When we feel we are being watched.
Well, maybe we are.
Somewhere close by
but also, staggeringly far.
We are taught to listen
to the same pieces of information.
Rote notes of brain pollution,
diluting the well of imagination.
We are told to conform, follow the norms,
do as your told, ignore the unshapely forms
that stalk around in the dead of night,
Ignore the worlds you create in a blink of the eye.
Ignore the insights you had,
that were always so right.
Instead follow this instruction manual
on how to lead a good life.
Be a good sheep in a herd of many.
I hear the sound,
in the distant rains.
I hear it in the wind.
The big bang exploding
away from us at such speeds.
I hear the growing seeds of future trees.
The grinding hiss,
like tinnitus,
the hum exists
to circumvent your brain,
to infiltrate your mind.
Plucking memories
like fruit from trees,
and devouring them in a single bite.
I hear...
I hear the hum.
I hear the darkness come.
I hear the light,
I hear the day
and I fear the night
when it is all taken away.
Thanks for reading
Endless Nightmares out now
300 pages of horror themed poetic storytelliung
Please take a look at my previous collection "Torn Pages"
100+ all new poems not shared here before.
https://tinyurl.com/KCtornpages
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