The Dog

Tell me the most precious thing you have. It can’t be something you were given and it can’t be something that you’ve bought. It can’t be something that you feel and it can’t be something you’ve been taught. It can’t be something you can smell, see, touch, taste or hear. It can’t be something or someone you love, hate or feel indifferent about. It can’t be desire and it can’t be something you lack. It can’t be faith and it can’t be an emotion. Whatever remains, that’s what you took from me. A little pillow. A little something that no matter what happens in this world I can rest on. A little rainbow. A little bit of custard and apple pie. A little boy. A little boy who wants to play in the playground, but his stomach touches his lips so many times a day, he’s trapped in a little box. I can see you Aya. In every dream, in every shadow, in every bowel twisting smell. I see you in the daylight. I see you on the news, in the paper and on the internet. I can see you and I’m coming for you. You were the dark dog, but now I am. I’m going to take your little boy, your little something. Your smile, your senses, your stars, your smell of rain. Your little pillow.

I’m going to give you vomit. I’m going to give you endless flying cockroaches crawling under your skin. I’m going to give you a mirror of you, with tears of blood and blistered fingers, bruised lips, limp legs and black eyes. Every night you will call my name and it will echo, and I’m not going to answer you. I’m going to give you ash and the smell of dead animals you can taste. I will give you an iron box that you can trap the fading memories of your little pillow in and you can lay on sharp rocks and your eyes held open by staples. I don’t have my little pillow. You took it from me. All I have is the memory of it. I want it back. I want to taste custard and apple pie again. I like rainbows.

Aya, I can see you. I lick your ears to lubricate your hearing, so you can hear me calling when you sleep. My song for you are the despared screams of the raped, the hollowed and the torn. I hope you die muted and terrified, trapped in your skin at the back of a lonely midnight bus. When you’re found, not even the slime blooded bitch that begot you would have the stomach to identify the eternally soulless…. (There was someones name here).

View adamnorman's Full Portfolio

Don't count the flowers..

in the darkest of hours, we count the flowers..

we blink our eyes, & in countless seconds, they wither & die..

even the fragrance slips away.. the petals dry out, & make that sad crunchy sound.. 

did someone forget to change the water in the vase..?

maybe they never should of been put into a bouqet.. 


scatter the remains across a green field, you get down & kneel..

looking off into the horizon, you pray.. 

God why, why couldn't they of been saved...? 

collapse into the grass, take a deep breath, at last..

your hands graze over the dead flowers, & clovers.. 

looking into the bleak sky, those eyes had nothing left to give..

so just cry.. this is the life you've lived.

no rain.. only clouds..

no light.. just that painful sound..

the wind caressing limp petals off the ground, to somewhere they can have inner peace.

Author's Notes/Comments: 



The empty space is what fills the hole inside my heart. Funny how others success brings me down to a beaten level where I wander forever aimlessly on the paths inside my brain. I doubt everything I’ve ever done and everything I do because what am I worth, what am I even needed for if I can’t even tell the success story of any of those who matter.

I’ve become a dementor of sorts, but rather than suck the positivity out of them, I wrap my mouth around my heart as it weeps the blood that once motivated. I viciously suck it out with every gasping breath. I don’t want to live a life of being told by others what someone I love has done. Don’t think I want pity for knowing there is not even presence in my absence. If the one who succeeds understands my helpless cries of devotion, then they alone should know each song that will need to be whispered in my ear to stop making me feel like the empty bottles in the road that get run over and burst, eventually flattened into useless trash.

I had a dream last night
That I needed you
As I do every day
Funny thing is
That this time
You tried to pull away. 





Hear ye the Voice of the Elder Xastur,

The mournful sigh of the vortex,

The mad rushing of the Ultimate Wind

Whom I call upon Aphoom-Zhah;

Swirling darkly among the silent stars.


Hear ye Him howling serpent-fanged

Amid the bowels of nether earth;

He whose ceaseless roaring

Fills the timeless skies of hidden Leng.


His might teareth the forests

And crushed the cities,

But none shall know the hand

Or the soul that destroys.


Faceless and foul walked

The Elder One,

In likeness of Nyarlathotep;

His form to men unknown.


Hear then His Voice in the dark,

Answer His call with thine own;

Bow ye and pray at His passing,

But speak not His name aloud.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A poem about the Cthulhu Mythos deity Xastur (better known as Hastur).

Heaven's Door

Lost in this theocracy

Lost in this theology

Lost in this technology

I still hold on


Stranded in darkness

Moping in blackness

Struggling in madness

I still see a light


Torn into pieces

Ripped inside out

Stripped of sanity

I still wish for redemption


Blinded from nature

Ignorant to what’s pure

Voided of love’s feel

I still dream of a light


My mind’s eye shattered

My center shaken to the core

My heart gut-spilled splattered

I still knock on heaven’s door








View sale7rad's Full Portfolio


Oh how I long for that morning,

Of bitter aftertaste and scowling eyes,

Empty promises and separate sheets,

Laid bare among that ripened taste,

Of fruit that juices fall,

Like lemons from adamantine times,


Love holds me captive again,

As I tremble,

With bittersweet longing.

Peaceful descendants to madness


      Here i am walking in this darkness,

looking for someone else who dosen't look right through me,

with all these voices in my head,

can anyone tell me why im just so alone,

I remeber when you use to say i could be anyway

now i can't even find you in this dark cold world 

Lost and confused i wonder in this place scream just 

to find my savoiours grace. 

      As i walk what seems to be an eternity i think i see

your face. when i got closer its nothing but a mirror and all

i see is this face, i dont even reconize this face anymore. This face is nothing 

to me i see a horrid person of no remorse of no life or pain.

All i see in this mirrior is me. 

   This descendant into madness is killing me. You use to make my

nightmares go away you used  to say its ok youits not your fault that you can't stay.

now i cant find my way around up, down, left, right, they all look the same to me.

In this darkness descending down too far to tell my way around scream help me

help my sole help this friglechild befor she falls.

      All these voices in my head all this pain and too much dread.

can one little girl take this pain can one little girl keep secret.

So much pain no father to hold her one man alone can ease her pain

screaming so loud her ears start to bleed. Hands on her face with gental grace

a voice so sweet saying its ok im hear please do you fear your never alone in this space

Een when darkness grabs yor heart im hear till your days grow short and our lives are no longer

Bright green eyes open to meet bright blue ones  a kiss to the nose tears fall quietly.

arms wrap her body and peace befalls her every whim. 

Darkness no longer holds her secrets but shes still in a descendant into madness.


Author's Notes/Comments: 

Hope you like it guys <3 Tongue Out

View ♥cheymarie♥'s Full Portfolio

Dark Seducer

I am in love with the night

That dark seducer who tempts with his diamods of starlight

Laid out on his bed of black velvet

View wyldice's Full Portfolio

Black ink oppression

The graze of your touch stings like shards of glass..

making my heart tremble and shake inside it's cage of desolace..

and as i'm with you, I can feel the emptiness seep deeper, my soul is drowning..

leaking of darkness..


Black ink of despair. pour it all over me, drench my spirit..

it already feels too heavy to bare.

as you glance over, you'll see I was never really there..
perhaps I was just smoke passing through the air.. 

Author's Notes/Comments: 


View blackrainbow0fhope's Full Portfolio