Hollow

certain sounds invoking past sensations
of fear, of lightlessness, and of wakeless nightmares
setting in motion set responses conditioned
erratic, the eyes are afraid to blink
lest images flash behind the crimson lids
like waiting for the poison arrow to hit its mark
like a deer frozen in its tracks
   caught by the stare of the tiger among leaves and tall grass

attempts to step out of the space faltered
much too ingrained, each second pounds in the heart
mayhem, each step is haunted
by spectres of a past felt ever so close still
right next to the ribcage, rising and falling rhythms
drowning the voice of reason hovering just over the head
like the dreaded pendulum swinging down ever inch closer
   upon the poet blinded by ecstasy that it is an agony

beliefs do not take any precedence nor pose as salvation here
only lies comforting the approachment
only lies quieting the throes of painful silence
paintings so mum of the apparent violence portrayed
maddening madrigals from the dark woods
accompanying the mad queen riding on mad black dogs
presiding over the impending doom
   executed right here within the supposed sanctuary

help was not screamed out
neither it was spoken out
only careless, meaningless whispers
carried away on the wind at dusk
when nature stands still
when one is alone amongst the many

21st May 2018
#31: Return to Earth