In the call of the night,
beasts start to howl and fight,
to break the collar and chains
that bind them in my hell.
They run rampant,
rattling through the corridors,
so loud I cannot sleep.
They are me, and I am them.
Month: January 2025
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Collared
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Masking
Silk hands conjure specters,
wisps of memory clawing through dusk.Fingertips etch sigils in dust,
veins pulse with ache and distilled hate.The air thickens, weighted, restless—
a name nearly spoken.The figure manifests,
a smile infested,
a mask dawned for a new day. -
Mind Corridors
The labyrinth twists with its walls alive,
etched with fragments of forgotten faces.
The corridors shift,
reshaped by the weight of memories
screeching their way to the surface.Shadows obscure each turn,
and monsters lurk;
born of heartbreak, despair, and yearning.
They hunt without rest, devouring wishful whispers
that echo through the endless, shifting maze. -
Quiet Cacophony
Amidst nothingness, the silence rumbles
like crashing waves on distant shores.
Each breath tumbles through the air
like a voice that isn’t there.The stillness grows, a heavy shroud,
its voiceless weight both soft and loud.
A quiet chaos, it twists and bends,
a cacophony that never ends.