Torment, torment, anxiety brings such sweet sorrow, The dim grinding of gears within a mind left dark and hollow, I have waxed lyrical on my fears, on my oldest friend named Death, Who lingers at my threshold, patient, cold, awaiting my final breath, His presence is an icy murmur threaded deep through marrow’s ache, A keeper of forgotten names and vows I failed to make, Yet still I pace these haunted halls where fractured thoughts convene, Among the rust and ruin of all that might have been, For ignorance bears honeyed lips while poison stains her tongue, And grief hums ancient hymns where youth once brightly sung, While somewhere in the blackened hush beyond this mortal veil, A deathly silence waits for me, with open arms forever pale.
Her eyes shine through my darkness like galaxies, Starfields illuminating the darkest reaches of my being, Ancient constellations stitched through wounds left unnamed, Their silver language quieting the storms that I hide in my mind, In Amber’s gaze, the night bends softly toward mercy, And even the shadows seem reluctant to remain, For where her light gathers, forgotten chambers awaken, Dust-covered hopes stirring like embers beneath cold ash.
I have grown cold, hardened by loss and the ravages of time, Hued from cold black granite, weather-beaten, broken but true, A monument shaped by tempests no hand could shelter me from, Edges worn by grief, yet refusing surrender to ruin, The years have carved their silence deep into my bones, Leaving echoes where warmth once lingered unafraid, Yet beneath the stone, beneath the fractures and the frost, Some forgotten ember in me leans still toward her distant fire.
For she is with me, and I with her, eternity will have to wait, We dance together at the edge of the deep green ocean of sleep, Where dreams drift like drowned stars beneath a moonless tide, And silence folds around us like velvet curtains drawn by unseen hands, The dark no longer hollow, but rich with whispered tenderness, My bride’s breath is a lantern glowing faintly against endless dusk, As though time itself pauses to watch our fragile orbit turn, Two weathered souls suspended between ruin and becoming.
Should morning call us back with its pale and restless hands, Still I shall carry her constellations beneath my fractured ribs, A hidden firmament burning softly through granite and grief, For love, once kindled in darkness, learns the language of enduring.
The poisoned blade of emptiness breaks skin, Even while standing amid a nameless crowd, Where emotions contend in primordial tourney, Like crows fighting over a bloated corpse, And I, a husk among their fevered murmuring, Drift unseen through the crush of borrowed faces, A stranger even to the chambers of my own breast, Watching my thoughts circle like carrion birds, Pecking at old wounds hidden beneath the tongue, While some forgotten part of me stands distant, Coldly observing the slow unmaking within.
The stillness of a winter morning, Awakens with cold and sharp clarity, The night before brought such melancholy, That lingers still in the frost like memory, Its quiet ache suspended in the pale air, While rooftops wear the silver breath of dawn, And bare trees stand like solemn witnesses, To thoughts left restless in the dark, Now softened beneath a brittle light, As silence gathers in the waking cold.
The night outside feels so loud in its silence, I listen wearily, retracing old faces in my mind, Ghosts of laughter echo through hollow corridors, Their voices worn thin by the passage of time, Each memory arrives like a hesitant visitor, Knocking softly where sleep once stood guard, And I sit beneath the weight of their shadows, Counting the distance between what was and what remains.
A sullen knight battles the grisly spectre of death, Armour and silvered sword shine in desperate combat, Death’s cape of plague and sorrow flows in the icy breeze, The scythe of reaping clutched within hands of cold bone, The brave knight battles through sunlight and starshine, But death is always one step ahead, cunning and sure, At the knight’s feet, ebony serpents rise from the earth, Beasts of childhood dreams encircle and entangle feet, Fangs bared and biting they savage the knight, Death adders with scales of shining blackened silk, Invade the knight through necrotic flesh, burrowing, Coiling within his gut to create a liquifying den of snakes, Death claims his prize and the fallen knight is laid waste, A once brave soul, left to putrefy within his armoured shell.
Shadows dance by lamplight inviting intrusive thoughts, Although the hour is late, I must address their demands, I sit and write, hoping to dismantle their covert weaponry, Those heavy thoughts behind my eyes like invaders in my keep, Anxieties that hang in the air like thick scales upon the back, Of that great black serpent that has weaved its path, Throughout the entirety of my waken memory, Sleep may conquer it, but the realm of dreams must wait, Until I write, then reword, and contemplate my escape, Time passes, my mind aches and my eyes begin to burn, I’m weary enough now to swallow that evening pill, Knowing, that the great serpent sits coiled within me still.
The coal-stained silver lined clouds rumble, Restlessly churning above a black range, A symphony accompanied by the caw of crows, Cemetery stones jut through mist like broken teeth, Marking the empty husks of men and kin cowering within graves, Screaming tree hollows drum with the sound of steady rain, As the dried lungs of empty creek-beds breathe once more, An intense feeling of static electricity fills the air, As bright cobwebs of lightning flicker across the sky, A heavy hum vibrates deep within the bowels of the land, Something that once slumbered has awakened, Stirring, timeless and immense with insatiable hunger, A leviathan no longer content to remain darkly dreaming, Once secreted away within the ocean realm of sleep, This ancient is of the stars, of the land and sea, A shapeless colourless world devouring entity.
There is a hidden fracture in the world, A gaping wound leaking black emptiness, Where the infinite darkness of the void seeps in, Slowly choking all light and love, Soon, a great plague of sorrow will cover the land, From raging sea to distant mountain, Blacking out the earth into a deathly silence,
At times, my mind feels adrift at sea, Lost, with no stars left to guide me, Disconnected, suspended between directions, Where every horizon holds the same bleak view.
So where do I turn to now, When true north feels unattainable, When my thoughts circle like currents, Pulling me between fear, grief, and exhaustion.
Do I follow the fading light, or sink beneath the weight of the storm? Do I keep calling into the dark? In the hope that something calls back.
The ocean within feels vast and unnavigable, I drift, emotionally disorientated and restless, I lack clarity or trust in what may come next, Struggling to find something solid to aim for.
Perhaps the question is not “Where do I go?”, But,“What part of me can I anchor to”, A place where I can take a breath and refocus, Where I can hold my head above these crushing waves.
Dan Verkys 