Those little slices of death

"Sleep, those little slices of death - how I loathe them." - Edgar Allan Poe

*Each poem must end with your narrator waking up
*Collaborations and multiple entries welcome
*No word limit (within reason)

Night hells.

Tick, tock
Tick, tock

The clock counts the seconds before hell begins
Took more pills then medicare can supply
He terrifies everyone with his visions
He uses razors, just as musicians use instruments
With thicknesses in the air, he slips under
Now in the realm of hells.

He slides into the drivers seat
Happy, joyful, complete.
He goes to meet his love
Driving is like a retreat to him
Upon arriving, hes struck with disbelief
Shes with some little fucking muck,
Better than an insomniac i guess.
He thought turning around, was best.

Now drunk by rage and depression
Struck hard, swerving in and out the lines,
Observing the blurry and swirly,
Worry to slurry words,
His early life flashes,
It all ends with head on collision.

Despite the drugs, he awakens,
The nightmare chases him.
"Only a bad dream.."
"... right?"

Thanks for your entry, BlackaToasty

Now n again

but there was no dammed water hose
nor a red sand bucket
just thick grey smoke licking its way
through the gap between door and floor
lisping words, comforting but finite
with "and a speedy release from any pain"
the screams, those screams all had personalities
god knows, I knew every one of them
the tone, the pitch, even the level of pain
they were in

and knew too, that as soon as I tried
to run through that door
those lying lispings of comfort
licking their way through
the gap between door and floor
will recoil, then hell itself will consume me
sometimes, I'll get a scream out too
other times, I'll just burn, hearing the others

and then I'd awake, damning everything
but especially whatever thing
keeps asking me the question, always the same one
die trying or die crying in the corner

the answer has always been the same
and the end, ends with death

maybe the real nightmare would end
with life

😃

-last breath-



Am I alive
Or am I dead
Cant move nothing
Accept my head

Dont want to move
Or take a breath
For fear of living
Or is it just death

I lay here to sleep
Or is this awake
I fear trying to move
My life he could take

I stare into darkness
Some stars that I see
I feel it trying
To pull me to thee

I feel my face smile
As I start to have sight
Now flying towards me
Is a star that is bright

I take my last breath
As the pain goes away
My soul begans to move
But my body still lays

"Gates of Hell"

I fucked it all up
Nothing new
It’s what I do
Murdering trust
the most delicate
of a relationship’s features

She struck back
with words as sharp
as a prison yard shank
ripping into my soul
leaving me in pain
the agonizing torture
of true depression

My heart races
muscles ache
bones sore
A familiar feeling

Minimal sleep
with needles appearing in every dream
waking me whilst resonating in my mind
Battling with my own demons
whilst I compete for the one thing
that completes my soul
to not disappear

Guilt and fear
directing every thought
driving me closer to those dreams
Self-loathing for
not being the man I know I can
causing more
remorse and shame
pushing me closer to the needle

Subconsciously
the syringe brings me peace
as it always has
My conscious thoughts use the spike
to inject the same substance
yet the goal has changed
from temporary tranquility
to a permanent sleep

Spiraling downward to the gates of hell
Tempted to enter
the fiery land of the damned
knowing the flames will burn
yet feeling a comfortable
content familiarity

I long for that warmth
before I’m torched
The numbness that relieves the
guilt
pain
regret
shame
The escape from
self-loathing
depression
and most of all
the bitterness
of never having felt
so close to another soul
then having it all ripped away

I fucked it all up
because that’s what I do
I don’t know another way
All of our love
For each other
wasn’t adequate
but I’m fighting for it anyhow
praying for a miracle
that would provide me
the one thing that can save me from myself

I step back from the gates
keeping them in my view
watching the scorching flames
beyond the comfortable warmth
and I pray that she will come down
and snatch me out of here

Then I spot her through the flames
realizing that she is at her own entrance
to the flames
having a similar internal debate

It’s become painfully clear to me
that we will either climb out together
or we’ll each burn up alone

The internal war continues on

Doodlebug waltz

There were seventeen of them
all dancing on the steaming rubble
so to try keep at least one claw cool
for a split a second or two
while they picked pecked
through the bits of brick, wood and plaster
at the crackling skin
and smouldering flesh within the rubble

there was a whimper, just the one
when a child's charred fingers, touched through to the air
the caw cawing stopped
and all seventeen of them stared at me
then pecked that hand bone clean
and searched wildly for the child eyes

It was at that moment I awoke
just as a bloodstained orange beak
slammed into my eye

###

Im not sure if this is an acceptable entry but ill submit it, if its not its not. No biggy.

Cataplexie Du Réveil~

Suddenly, I awoke from a Dream,
Silence clung to everything.
Everything, save an empty chair,
Which rocked and creaked with no one there.
I tried and tried to cry "Help me!",
The chair stopped moving abruptly.
The moon shined brighter in my room,
Which now seemed somewhat like a tomb.
Then Silence fell with morbid chime,
A ringing in back of my mind.
I couldn't move or talk or scream,
I thought I fell back into Dream.
My fear and anxiousness were met,
With just an empty silhouette.
It stood next to me by the bed,
Just lingered and fed off my dread.
It felt like days, or even weeks,
That it stood there and fed on me.
This silhouette, this Shadow thing,
This horrid thing of which before I've dreamed.
So many times, so many nights,
Frozen in a conscious dream of fright.
When I was young I wasn't scared,
Told myself that there was nothing there.
But now I'm older and believe,
That real's not always what you see.
I was scared because I know it well,
And what it does is moan and growl.
There it stood before me still,
Bellowing out sounds unreal.
All I could do was scream inside,
And hope I woke before i died.
I know this thing was draining me,
Remembered how it used to be.
I'd wake up sore and tired still,
At first just thought me to be ill.
But now I see it drains my life,
Now I see it's not alright.
If I stop being scared of this,
I fear it may not moan or hiss,
But it might take my life instead,
For I am useless without dread.
So I waited until its grip
Let go of me and away it slipped.
I don't know if it was a dream,
Though, It was after my awakening.
It's more like I was there so long,
My consciousness somewhere went wrong.
I wonder if it's just my mind,
And Darkness wants it's promised Time?
If it's my Darkness draining light,
Why only rarely and not every night?
I've never loathed a feeling more,
Than how I feel after It has come forth.
Questioning why It comes to me.
Not being sure if its just a dream.
My mind races, there's no release.
Even now my pen wont cease.
It scares the life out of me.

Congratulations Craic for well deserved win and Gemini its awesome to be in the same company with you.  Congratz!
Brown Jenkin thank you for the honor of runners up.

Thank you most kindly Miss Vee, well done yourself, good stuff Gemini nice one

Cheers for the nod ,Drowned-Jenkins ...friend of Mr Barrymore?  :)

I'd like to dedicate this trophy to those that have returned, and to those that never left.

This newcomer, Jenkin, has good taste, but to put me up there with the likes of Lep and Vee, well that's quite an honor.