Vermillion tears

 

There are splinters

over my reality.

Footprints of miniscule insects,

crawling over the fragile surface.

Their only purpose.

Eating away at the strands,

creating pathways where their feet land.

A web of scratch marks

clinging to the worn skin.

Edged in darkness.

Head in my hands.

 

There are scratches, lacerations

on the tarnished skin.

Scars, hidden deep within.

Faded leftovers

of torn out yesterdays,

drafted on burnt out paper.

The tears of a million trees,

mix with the vapour 

of the vermillion tears,

that I set free,

evaporated into the ether,

creating clouds,

that rain down salty misery

upon the warped ground beneath.

 

There are cracks

in the threads

of the strands,

in the fine lines of reality,

Bedded in so deeply,

they let the unearthly seep within,

the otherworldly beings creep

seethingly in,

deepening your terror filled dreams.

Until you want to let out

the loudest scream,

but reality is twisted,

the threads constricting

your throat

and not a single note

will rise from shredded lungs.

Not a welp, nor a song sung.

Just the inching darkness,

getting ever closer.

If it ever reaches us,

then our time here is done.

 

 

 

Thanks for reading

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Peace, Love & Poetry 

 

Kyle