Draw near....oh my darling

Hear- all the spirits calling

Listen to their night cry....

O how they weep by, & by.

Move a little closer-

Ever shall they pester.....

Disturbing each human-being,

Woe to every person living....

Thoughts ever full of mystery-

Ah, -time to hunt down history.

Solve this passing crisis-

I’ll have to speak with Osiris.

Spine tingling-

Bone chilling...

Mind boggling...

Nanoseconds ticking...

Here comes the moment,

Answers to my torment....

Death-----´tis a part of life,

So, now----I head to play my fife.

Soft by torchlight I roam, seeking

through the dark’ning woods of weeping

willows, her lithe figure keeping

just beyond the edge of sight.

By the flick’ring flame the shadows

dance like felons ’pon the gallows,

still the mystery woman follows

her path by mere lantern’s light.

Subtle glimpses of her fleeting

form I chase into the night,

this mystery maiden,

dressed in white.

Suddenly I find her, standing

in the moonlight, eyes demanding

my surrender. She’s commanding

me to proceed without fright.

There, beneath raven hair flowing,

I can see her skin is glowing;

and my fear, which should be growing

deep inside, has taken flight.

Pale blue firelight now dancing

in her hands; a spectral sight,

supernatural beauty,

dressed in white.

Forward my feet slowly moving

toward this creature, as if proving

heavy debts my soul’s accruing,

and I lose my will to fight.

With intent I step up closer,

craving, needing just to know her;

days of free will are quite over,

as I’m wrapped in chains of light.

Eldritch witch-fire soon engulfs me,

eating my soul, burning bright

while she watches,

dressed in white.

Closer, she leans in to kiss me.

As our lips meet, I grow dizzy

then she smiles and whispers softly,

“Love, come close and hold me tight.”

In my embrace she is clinging,

while the angels commence singing

I ignore the painful stinging,

as my neck she gives a bite.

With a grin she sends me hither,

seeking victims in the night -

my new mistress,

dressed in white.

© 2016 - dustygrein

The moon broke loose

From it's clutter of dead trees...

...But when it fell on 

Sage's back, 

Shots of 

Moonlight regaled

Tiny white hairs 

On her reactive neck...

She was staring down 

At the bloodied wreck

Of her dog,

And wondering what

Base human

Would commit 

Such a 

Repugnant act...

...The cruel mishap

Must have happened

When she was 

Off at work,

And the bastard hadn't

Even the courtesy

Of pulling Daisy 

Out of the road...

...Daisy had been hit 

Multiple times,

And Sage could barely

Recognize her

Darling face now...

...Sage's tears 

Tumbled down

Onto the brutalized 

Heap 

Which had 

At one time been

Daisy.

With blurry eyes,

Sage stared down

Off the overpass to the 

Series of

Cars whizzing by

Like rockets

Down below...

...There was more

Cars everyday,

And with the cars 

Came a heightened

Sense of 

Cruelty.

The callous windshield

On each menacing 

Car

Cut every driver off

From his or her 

Natural world...

...In grief,

Sage let her body slip

From her spot overlooking

The overpass...

Falling!...

...Her body 

Plunged fast

Towards the 

Wavering throng 

Of honking, and

Screeching 

Metal...

...She could almost feel

Heat rise

From the cars

That would ultimately 

Tear her to pieces...

...But for only 

A moment,

She found

Some precious

Seconds of peace,

As she hovered above

The ungodly madness

That never seemed to catch

A worrisome breath.

©

2017

Bunny Villaire 

I am a traveler of the dark

Where I go I leave my mark

Where I stop I cannot stay long

For me to stay forever simply wrong

I roam from town and country

Of this year and the next century

I hold no lover, children, or friend

Yet I meet them all at the very end

I know not why I wander

I know I may never travel yonder

To the worlds of light and despair

Yet I travel with little care

I am the visitor of who you do not weep

When the time comes I bid you a kiss in your cold sleep

In a cabin wrapped in snow, snowflakes melt upon my toe

Windows whistle melodies, vermillion embers softly glow.

As I rock upon my chair, sleepy embers start to flare,

Windows flap and shake their dresses, then a creak atop the stair.

What oddity is this? My relaxed hand becomes a fist

There's no one else inside this cabin. Yet I hear a subtle hiss.

Seeking comfort in my tea, my hands now shaking vigorously

Clasp the steaming porcelain and sense a cold atrocity .

Command my eyes to look away, although they fight and disobey.

Pupils creeping to the left witness smokey mists at play.

Shapeless figures gather round. I feel my chest begin to pound.

Like the embrace of iron chains, Doom has his hold upon me now.

Then a whisper in my ear tells me someone close is near,

asks me, "Where do children huddle", sends me waves of primal fear.

And I stop.

My fingers let my tea cup drop.

I stand without will.

And walk toward the window sill.

Outside I see a pile and I fear it's something vile

Alas, covered by snow. Curiosity does rile.

Shoeless and without shawl I run outside toward the stall.

I dig without a shovel 'til my fingers start to pall.

And pall is what I find of the most atrocious kind.

My own brood lay underneath and stabbing memory floods the mind.

The ticking of the clock sped to match the racing of my pulse. I could hear the pounding of my heart beat as I sat reading the last thing I would ever. I could no longer take the torture that is living. Living, breathing, existing, it all just seems wrong. After what I've done, my lapse in sanity caused me to ruin the one thing in my life that was good and pure. I can't take this anymore! I can't take this guilt. I can hear his heartbeat. This is driving me insane. I've got to get out of here. There has to be somewhere, anywhere, that can help me get rid of this noise. The ticking won't stop! I can still feel his pulse fading slowly between my hands. I can hear his hands hitting in the hardwood floor as he thrashed like a fish out of water. I want this all to stop! Just one step and this will all be done. My final step. My final breath. In and-

I sleep with ease, and dream of happy memories;

A sunlit park with children laughing,

Something dark, ominous, baffling,

As I turn, black feathers I find,

Trailing down to a man refined.

But then I awaken, peace forsaken,

My body freeze, my voice unheard,

No matter how much I try I could not stir.

Something heavy weighs upon my chest,

This puzzled me, I could not rest.

Hidden eyes, from everywhere, are staring right at me.

Why does my heart pound? I wish to flee.

Is there somebody whispering to me?

What was that? Who is there?

Why am I seeing things that are not there?

They aren't there, right?

Where is the sunlight?!

My throat feels tight; is someone choking me?

But I see nothing! Is there a force I cannot see?

I struggle to move, but futile and weak.

I cannot reach out to god, or even shriek.

Who is there taunting me with wicked glee?

I only wish to be free!

I close my eyes, praying for this nightmare to end.

Do you expect me to be dead?

Dawn arrives and I regain my self-control

While I calm my troubled mortal soul.

I come every morning at dawn, dressed in velvet red,

My gloved hands manipulating

The puppet's strings while a fair lass

Watches them dance at my every command.

Everyday she comes to watch my show

Entrance by my story-telling while I,

The Puppeteer, am entranced by her beauty.

A man in ebony black passes by me,

While I step over a blacken feather,

Still performing, still pulling, the strings of fate.

Dancing with her in my arms,

In this elaborate party of mine,

I stroke and caress her beautiful face.

Lady Marie, your angelic eyes shine better

Than my glass orbs of violet and green;

Lady Marie, your rosy cheeks are lovelier

Than my cold snow-white skin underneath these sleeves;

Lady Marie, you, who stands last after my show,

Smile like that of a goddess, enchanting me;

If only I was as lively as you are.

You touch my face only to find it cold as ice

And your fearful eyes look around

To find out my guests are merely puppets

Whom I control with these porcelain fingers of mine.

I pull their strings, following my every command,

As I make them dance around you.

Yes, my dear, I am your porcelain lover.

Won't you stay with me forever,

And give me your heart?

This empty chest of mine needs your love,

And only you can control my fate.

Please answer me, my dear,

Or my strings may choke you . . .

A fine pale gentleman dressed in ebony black

Danced with a feathered top hat and beautiful dark eyes

Alluring, mysterious, and deep like that of a raven.

Wherever he goes a story is told

As he leaves a trail of black feathers behind.

Smirking, knowing he will live forever;

"Nevermore," was the last thing he said

Before leaving his friend, Poe, dead.

The powder on my face 

Aggravates a maze 

Upon my body 

Tis not iridescent 

As it bleeds through my skin

Crevices of my face 

Leaking

Singing the scoundrel is it

Moaning, it reminisces 

Echoing through the hallways

Calling an enchanted tune

Of these hallow, decaying walls

Humming in my bones 

Rattling my intestines 

Drowning my ears

In a hellish harmony

I cannot move 

Paralysis am I 

My muscles are lead

Morphine tainted with seduction

Its fingerprints call

And remain plastered 

Aware am I to see

Miraculously upon my gooseflesh 

Dripping across my chin

A disoriented daze 

I am the classroom

It may teach 

Softly scraping

Chalk against my teeth 

Ink dotted cursive 

Spilling out of my eyes

You see

The tune started in my sleep

One with the shadows

Hiding in the corner 

Is my very own conscienceness 

It touches me before wake 

I am the clay 

Contorted by dawn 

Investigative hunch 

By the morning they are gone 

The storm the plagues my nights has a name

Through my shut windows and slammed doors, her thunder resinates loud in my ears, and I have no rest.

She is like the bell to a church, a shaker of walls, a rattler of glasses, a frightening sound of beckoning.

I want to emerge out under those black clouds, consumed quick and fast by the rain,

But you'd be a fool to chase such a storm.

So I lay as a frightened dog might lay, scared and shaking under layers of sheets.

And I wait in awful suspense for some gust of wind to blow her into blue sky.

And I will emerge in the sun, blinking and bright.

But such a gust is foreign to the skies.

My storm has a name,

And sometimes when the night is quiet,

I call it softly.

You’ve given me life, you’ve given me hope,

in ways I’ve only dreamed.

You’ve given me new ways to cope

with the sorrowful way life seemed.

And yet as you have given me life, you’ve taken it too,

Because while you give me all that I need,

I find I can only dwell on you.

I beg you stay, I kneel and plead.

You leaving has left a mark, I was dead before I met you,

and now that I’m living,

despite all you’ve given,

There is so much more we could do.

I was saved before and I save myself now,

for only you in existence,

and if you say that you cannot vow,

I know I must remain persistent.

Because, my love, you are my life,

And if you leave, I have only a knife.