Remember, when we went all the way
there.
Remember.
We held hands, and walked
into the forest, and got lost.
We found the entrance to a clearing
and as we passed under the twining vines,
the nettles and the spines,
the darkness swept away all light.
The clouds rolled in like bodies piling
higher and higher
up
in the
sky.
The ground softened, squelched and sucked
at our feet in noisy gulps.
Trying to swallow us up.
The Dark Marsh surrounded us.
Remember?
Do you remember?
The red highlights in the black water,
the streams, viscous screams we heard within our ears,
echoing out,
hacking at the reeds, and twisted skeleton trees.
Remember.
I need you, to remember.
I need, you to remember me.
In the gloom the eyes appeared, haunted and hollow,
set, into their hoods of shadow.
Blinking. Their backlit glow.
I slipped, sliding slowly into the muck,
pulled by the mire into the water,
it splashed as I tried to find a foothold.
I tasted the entropy of the mind,
the loss of flesh, the decay.
Remember.
When those pallid hands reached up,
those knotted digits tightening on my limbs
pulling me away.
Where am I?
Remember where I am.
Remember when we held hands.
YOU ARE READING
Confusion in Underground Clouds
PoésieThis is a collection of assorted poems, detailing one consciousness extending and swirling into another, and another, and another.