Shadow demons

Describe your shadow demon, fears or fantasy erotice.

Peripheral Shadows

Just out of focus
A blur on the move
I see peripheral shadows
Moving quickly out of site
I know that its people
Dead people whizzing past
Forbidden to let me focus
To see who they really are
And what they really are
Their traces are getting stronger
I am almost able to shift them
To my centre of vision
Just not quite yet
They give me fright
The fear that once
They appear as they are
I will die and follow them
I will die and become
Some one else’s
Peripheral shadow

Lizard

A thing of komodo Darkness
Keeps tabs on my every move
Watching me with salamander eyes
A reptilian night dancing with my shadow self
Black scales whispering while its belly drags
A dragon of emptied light
Horned, fanged, breathing chilled fire
It follows around the corners
Between this space and that
Never meeting my gaze direct..

Maybe it's afraid of me.

When you find life
within the shadow
of your demon
the shadows
of your demons
will
find life
within you

DEMONS
It is
not you
seeing them
from the corner
of your eyes
it is them
seeing you
from theirs

Through the maze      
of my demons            
through the pain  
and the fear  
through the valley                
of broken promises  
and the friendships  
they wear  
on the banks  
of wishfull thinking  
with my bridges  
burning clear  
i slowly
start to wonder  
why  
am i here

Brimstone

Look not for the Devil,
fiend of The Book
in deepest of shadows
and the hottest of hells.
He's here on this earth,
partner of the most high,
the fixer of problems
and elevator of men.

Look away from the limelight,
behind the leaders of all,
to the one with sly smiles,
and a desire to conspire.
Promotion of darkness
is his deepest desire.
The minions are eager
when help is at hand.

No cut is too deep,
no mud is too dirty,
the game is the thing
for the Lord of the Lies.
Invite him to dinner,
to serve at your side,
the meal will be served
with the enemy expired.

Promotion assured
for the followers of id.
Their master is masked
as his evil is spread.
He's here on this earth,
you'll never know him
unless you seek to exceed
with the help of his kind.

SOBOL

LEON and NOEL, were twins but opposite of each other
Like looking into a mirror, what they SAW WAS in reverse
One would be a DIVA while the other an AVID reader
Switching personalities completely in the traverse

Some days one would shy away and act like a LEPER
With the utmost discord that no one could ever REPEL
A MOOD filled with an everlasting uncertain DOOM
As if dying in a dark MOOR locked up in their ROOM

Then the other was naughty, ready to pull any LEVER
Getting into trouble, exuberant and ready to REVEL
Not EVIL, but you’d admire the way they liked to LIVE
As one would act saintly while the other was a little devil

Then they’d change traits, you couldn’t tell who was who
DUAL characters were a thing of beauty you would LAUD
And each TIME they’d EMIT those opposite vibrations
Their KEELS were very SLEEK it almost felt like fraud

Even in their SLEEP their PEELS seemed to reflect
Their polar opposites and differences but NOT a TON
If you were to MEET them then you’d TEEM them
Because their peculiarity was NUTS enough to STUN

You couldn’t help but admire their WOLF like FLOW
If you were to PEEK at their secret, God KEEP your soul
If someone STOPS and SPOTS these doubles its trouble
Because under the full moon they tend to lose all control

●Sleep paralysis / out of body experience(?)●
•This was one of my first sleep paralysis experiences I had about 3 years ago. I have since learned how to ignore them, even though shadow men still makes regular visits•

Three knocks on the wall. I opened my eyes. I could see him by my window. It was clear even in the dark. He had broken my nightlight which I'd left on. His shadow covered the wall.
Like smoke, it spread down to the floor and over to my bed. He fell into the shadows. I hoped that he might have left.
But in the corner of my eye, I saw arms moving upp my bedside. They must have come from the smoke. I panicked. Maybe five of them moved on to my covers, holding me down. I felt like I was choking. I had to escape right now, I thought. I couldn't stay here anymore.
I stood up, feeling very, very heavy. The arms wouldn't let me go and started moving up my legs and on to my arms. The weight was too much for me. I fell to the floor. I could see my broken nightlight closely by the door. My hope for escape had left me.
But suddenly I felt myself jolt back into my bed and all the shadows dissapeared. Everything seemed normal again and I could have blamed a nightmare, but my bedlight was still broken.

boycotting all comps

On the topic of schizophrenia, demonic possession and scopophobia.
___________________________________

STOCKHOLM SYNDROME


I.  
 
 
It hovers behind, always  
Breath on my neck  
I turn, but to no avail  
 
 
It is juxtaposed, always  
On opposing ends  
Of a rotary wheel  
 
 
It laughs from reflection  
Behind my gaunt face  
And revels in my fear  
 
 
It cradles me in sleep  
Sound of rain soothes  
Drowns the whispers  
 
 
II.  
 
 
Sleepwalking past carnival lights  
In pseudo-conscious foresight  
They stare upon me, ambiguous faces  
Shadows mar the perceptive traces  
 
 
Their eyes are of forgotten friends  
Or those that chose to meet their ends  
Rooted in soil of thoughts tucked away  
Quick on heel to avail mind’s decay  
 
 
III.  
 
 
Evening glow fades  
And pupils dilate  
Don’t be afraid  
I’ll love you the same  
 
 
You love me in the tangled sheets  
For however brief  
 
 
There is beauty there  
Gasping for the air  
The surface ripples  
And the joy returns  
 
 
Don’t hate me for what I’ve done  
Or what I’ve become  
 
 
I am sated now  
It spills over, fills the room  
This is love  
 
 
IV.  
 
 
‘I could become obsessed with it  
A lust for possession would fill me with strange thoughts  
But, like a slow rot of the brain, I become unhinged  
Tortured by their company, I’d want to be left alone  
Everything they do or say, maddening almost  
Only the hunger for their flesh would remain  
And yet, psycho-analyze me if you must  
You will only find that I’m still quite sane  
And you will realize the very nature of humanity  
Is to hunger’  
 
 
V.  
 
 
Sleep disturbed  
Winter of my warm retreat  
Their tapping on the window  
I let them in  
They rape me into submission  
I enjoy their company  
The only friends I have left  
They enter me  
They are me  
 
 
VI.  
 
 
Event horizon  
This is real  
I won’t return  
I can’t feel  
 
 
Let me in

The person you don't see
when you look at me
the darkness within
the black in the eyes
the one no one understands
the one everyone is scared of
the most dangerous
the most hated
the siren of humanity
seductress of innocents
the scorpion of death

Red eyes
pale skin
teeth sharper then blades
the moon is hidden behind darkned clouds
mists begin to fall and darkness blankens my mind
the demons close in and screams still in my throat
no matter how loud no one will hear
i must not let the terror take hold
as my emidiet death does come near
pale skin as white as snow
eyes redder then burning coal
teeth like daggers yearning for blood
my innocents ripped away along with my life
left in a pool of blood just barely there i watch him take his leave
down the street as a rift of fire opens up
he returns to hell his hunt is over
my life is gone
he has won another soul
another battle
another life

The Pestilence and the Beast

Our life's force relies on a resource so futile.
Neither tears nor our stomach's bile
can bring the same, almost magical properties.
Trying to produce false copies results only in mockeries.
Then one day, a simply horrible day to say the least
an infection arose and a malicious beast.

Sparing neither infant, nor elderly, nor ill;
this beast and infection never quite drank their fill.
They drank and drank and killed and killed
as their partnership extended they became more skilled.
The people didn't go outside and barred their doors
some dug large pits right under their floors.
Whatever they tried, if they were in the two's way,
death would come slinking and stealing their life away.
The bodies piled up and were left to rot in the wind
but the people were only thankful they were not themselves pinned
to the police's ever growing faces board.

The police worked overtime, desperately trying to catch the Beast and Infection
Yet each time they came close, they were met with only dejection
as the duo faded away once more to resurface elsewhere.
A man as-of-yet unheard of among common circles, a hunt extraordinaire
Came forth and claimed he would, the damage done by the duet, repair.
Those people who dared, cried out in joy once the news reach them
but the elderly and supposedly wise rose to condemn.

They preached of the Lord's grace and His punishment
and so the saviour man was rebuffed, and days later found rent
limb from limb and head from torso, his skin pale where once blood flowed.
Not a drop remained. And so the wise men cried "See our truth!
This strange man came here with false hope! This stupid youth!"
And so the people remained where they were, dwindling in number
waiting with arms wide for the day they would slumber.
But the days dragged on and those who remained
were left to take care and dispose of those who were drained.

The Beast and the Pestilence grew tired now and slowed their kills,
the police hoped against hope that this slowing would still.
That the killing would cease and recovery begin.
Hopes were high and the people, this time, did not give in
Hope gave way to truth and truth to rejuvenation.
The streets were repaved in a bid of reformation
and the buildings were scrubbed until they shone, from the slums to the city.
The alleys and backstreets were no-longer gritty.
And soon the world shone with the light of a new start.
No-one was scared that their 'new start' would fall apart.
Fall apart it did, though it was years and years later,
when that time was forgotten and their comfort grew ever greater.

The Sickness was wary though, for advances in science
had taken a toll on Death and his alliance.
The Beast was a mongrel now, spoken of only in stories
the two of them now in their own purgatories.
The Pestilence couldn't sicken and weaken and taunt
the Beast couldn't kill and ravage and daunt.
And so they went on, the two of them weary
of their peers' constant and pitiless jeering.

Their fellow fear-mongers were still in business
and they revelled in the previous top-leveler's saddened existence.
And so the two out-casts, once feared and admired
were sent out of the world into the Discarded Quagmire.
And there they remained for all of eternity
forced to watch in horror at the growing modernity.

They weren't needed, and neither were other horrors
for the humans themselves began to fear all the others.
A trickle then a river of past fears and phobias came to live there
in the Quagmire of the lost, unneeded and the unaware.

((one of my earlier poems, lets flash back to my old story form))