E͕͍̭̞̠N̨͇̤̝d̰̦̖̬̪̮̯l̫͎̖͙̮̥e̙̫͢s̶̯͎s̵̪̻͍ ̴̹͇͖̜͓S̜̟͖̤̺̰̟͜o̺̦̮͙n͔̩̰͝g͏


Except from my horror story:



It is them, that are made to dance;

like puppets their severed limps skip like a jump rope;

their eyes are many, they see infinite…

They laugh when they are afraid; they are afraid when they are manic. They cry when they are hysterical-

their faces hurt from their endless grins-

they are balding. Indeed!

Ants crawl upon their unblinking seeing eyes…by the thousands they swarm their pale faces! They twitch their fidgeting mouths; drool pours like a flood down from out of their mouths. They slobber when they are well pleased,

and like maggots, their bodies swing sporadically, as they all hold hands, like pale paper dolls;

they sway to hold hand-in-hand-

they are indeed corpses;

they sing the Endless Suffering Song. They giggle, and cheerfully smirk;

some with tongues, some without.

Some with eyes, some without.

Some blink, some can no longer…

And like a square, they form it like an arena ring-

and their shadows fall upon the ground, and swarm does their darkness to devour the corpses.

Like children, they know nothing. All they know, is that to feast is to feel good-

Their insanity is like music…


Copyrightcopyright September 6, 2017



The Shattering Aether


And Alice was pure-dee mad and insane!

Her face fidgeted a madness, her chin scraped the skies, her cheekbones ached from her constant smirk-

forward into the maddening tunnel, does her female form embraces mankind;

and her eyelids twitch, at the flickering faint glow-

hurdling horribly into her eyes

For the web changed her body, into that what which be warped! Warped into the web, does her soul warp also-

until her female-shaped soul is no soul…!

until her soul is removed, and replaced with nightmares;

her essence through the wormhole, she goes down into the pit of despair;

and her long, beaming, drop dead gorgeous hair

like tree roots into the fumbling skies, tumbling nowhere, tumbling nowhere;

and it is the insane nexus! His embrace changes her into a pawn!

Alice fell down the rabbit hole;

that’s what we call the vortex.

And reemerged from the fathoms, in the name of the


poem Meaning:

Talks about how the internet can defile good people, with wicked imaginings…

Copyrightcopyright September 5, 2017



The Folly and the Fear


And out of the tides that be, you are but a thread grasped for the taking.

But the insane, and inept are they that fall into themselves, like a shadow-

and lo how insane, the rabbit hole goes;

if you were to only chase after what wsidom is unknown….

They are them that have fell themselves like a tombstone. They are them that are like stones…They are they that have fallen off the deep end;

and their faces stretch like the warped madness, tunneling and concerning.

To those who take great and utter pleasure;

into the chaos you go! Your faces will circle like the moon, and then disintegrate like a forget-me-not flower. You will glaze over like eyes, you will look up and see nothing. You will eat only the air of pure madness and hatred, and from one ear and out the other, so will your soul go…

you will have webbed knees, that stick to the chaos that you so sprint after; lifting dead limbs you will look up into the dead skies, with an empty blank stare.

Your face will be chubby off of the very greed of deceit-

you will roll down the headsman’s hill like a child frolicking down the meadows of hysteriam-

your mindless expression shall be in the form of drool; your wives and husbands will suckle off of that drool-

like honey it will taste good, but feel wrong and tommyrot.

The same way your soul suckles off of your choices-

you will be insane, and enjoy it-

and you will fear those who aren’t…You will see knowledge, and scream at knowledge. You will use your own words, to dig your own graves-

Your chin will be the shovel, used to scoop up your own words. Your eyelashes will act as the spears to pierce the winkening of love and remorse; hearts will be thorns, and thorns shall thorn against.

Your neck will stretch to chase after the rabbit of hate and haste, and your nose hairs will act as nooses to catch the bodies of your own kinsmen, entangled and enraptured, after your own shadows…

Your eyebrows will curl like a beard of deceit, your wives will do the same;

like a curtain your brows will act as the carpet of negligence; soft against the canvas of terror, your peace shall be the hay in the needle sack! Your snot will be the sweat pouring from the terror you imagined, and behind you, nothing at all, except your conscience will appear.

You will frown upside down the grin of lust, and your lusts will upside down frown the grin! You will fear those who wrought fear, because you have bowed before the fear of hate so long-

you will think chaos is the answer…And the rabbit that you so dared to chase after, will have horns, and hooves for feet…

Yet the face of a once recognizable reflection. You will curse it, turn around, and flee. Only to realize, that there is no ladder from off of your own nightmare and schemes-

And this be it the pride, and the madness of the folly.


Lo, what peace will only watch it from the distance; the shadows that have grown.

Lo the corridors, your shadow will roam,

if you were to only but leave it alone…

Copyrightcopyright August 22, 2017

Lost Girl


Her warmth is cold, and welcomes you.

The heart is an invisible dagger, as your

heartbeats go unnoticed…

Her fangs taste her tongue as she swings forth;

into your warming embrace, and into your life, is the crash course…

and blood is used for lemonade,

to quench the thirst, your muse is honey for her to feed.

She gratefully feeds…

Because is not a cruel cold voice, a giggle in disguise?

As the tonsils swing,

even the laughter subsides…

Copyrightcopyright July 31, 2017

Cold is the Frozen Space


Into the depths of, and then further into space;

inevitability makes your stride like a needle, shooting further until erased-

her eyes tunnel through space, like a wreckage, devouring;

and her eyes widen eagerly, her snarl is a meteor. Showering-

her face is the whole of Andromeda, waiting to tear you apart;

and her body is the space, too; indeed the void;

hurdling radiation over you-

cold dead space, is like a body that descends, over the junkyard of ships. Crumbles a sound deafening.

and yet no sound is heard, as you fall into gravity’s grip and pull;

Saturn lifts fools up without pity, devouring wanderers until made full.

She hovers over, indeed, indeed;

Orion, the belt that squares. And cold freezes tumbling skin to the touch. Her giggles up, over, and all around her lair.

and she fidgets a giggly grin, that is the laughter of space itself;

like a woman, her body embraces man-

and like a wedding, her face is the veil…

And the cold. Horrible, inevitable cold. Uses bodies as limbs to waltz;

she is the jester that prances about,

using star dust she lathers for suds and bath salts-

and the mind too, is vulnerable;

the day mankind! And into the depths of the space thereof…

Into the depths of space unutterable.

Poem Meaning:

Talks about the dangers of space travel.

Copyrightcopyright July 18, 2017


She, on the Canvas of Terror


She smiles, and teeth are shown;

and she grins, and her cover is blown-

for her teeth, just like her demise, brown like wooden horrors;

and just inside, is just in store;

for any so man that honors-

the mask that she wears, tears skin to a shred;

and the thorns that prickle against naughty skin;

throw severing blades, upon the bed-

her laugh, turns eyes glazed over white as snow; devouring fools, and devouring souls-

and her lashes, a bristle bunch nestled tightly against each eye;

make crimson to trickle down from each hole-

for walking, hand in hand with darkness, makes you forget the light;

why, it crashes the shadows against all that you love;

and burns it down into flames with all might-

…and it is she that shone doom, like a ray of light shone rays;

and it is she that whistles the siren song,

and it is she, that so dare all enslaves-

Copyrightcopyright December 19, 2016