It screeches and wraps,
Around the endless void inside you.
Vines feed on blood or so you think.
It slithers into your skin,
Creeping and growing inside, tearing apart your flesh like stitches of an old dry wound.
It feeds on fear or maybe you feed on it.
You never know who the monster is,
Just as the one under the bed is afraid of the one on top,
The one on top is afraid of a monster that never existed at all.
Rivers disappear into the sky, oceans turn to dust,
The land warps and crumbles like a piece of paper as if it amounts to nothing but trash.
Your fists clench at your inability to break free, as you're bound by your own words, sharper than any blade.
Maybe you don't want to be free,
Order is just an illusion after all.
A stupid thought, a false sense of control before the ice spear stabs through your eye as reality stares right into you.
For you are just human until you're not.
For you're only mortal until you're not.
For you're only real until you're not.
YOU ARE READING
Empty Wishes -Wonderful hallucinations
FantasíaCollection of poems and short horror-fantasy stories. Basically a writing dump. I do try, please remain patient for updates.
