The scent of fear

 

I smell fear

dripping

from the walls

of this place.

Its essence

has its own scent,

making itself present

as soon as you get close.

It climbs your nose.

Rotton.

Pungent.

Intense.

Like it knows you are near

and it feeds from your fear.

 

But I venture on down

the long corridors

winding my way along.

Been here before...

A maze of doors,

a place of short stays.

I remember them

from times before.

Times when I was

on the other side

of those doors.

 

But now I only walk

the beige carpeted floors.

Noticing the way

the lighting changes,

when no one else is watching,

and all you hear are the sounds

of echoed snores.

 

In the dim lit corridors,

the echoes are joined by a roar,

but everyone

is too far gone to hear

its hateful sneer

throttling the air,

choking the atmosphere.

They are all too fast asleep

to hear the very atoms weep,

as the blood of aeons seeps

over the beige carpeted halls.

But their dreams

will be infected

before too long,

by the nightmare song

when it calls.

 

 

 

Thanks for reading
Follow this link for more.
https://linktr.ee/Wordsandfluff

 
You can find my New books
"Tales from the 44A" and "Stations
here
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0DBKXPN13/
and here

https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B0DFV8N7XH

 

Please buy a copy if you can

it would really help me
continue to do this.

Peace, Love & Poetry
Kyle