The eyes looking back don't haunt me anymore. I'm not scared enough...
There is no more alcoholic bliss and magical-trickery that can stop the seething fire alit beneath the irises and below the tide rising there.
The sparks of all shone through the eyes and as miniature devils all akimbo,
Their spitting and daggers of ice tingle and then splay outward without melting, only sticking and hurting,
As they climb the high walls of my resistance until I need even more and more and forcing a guttural scream!!!!
It's this screeching and then it's a duller whaling from some place beneath my innards and also the stench of something else so much more visceral and once was locked up,
That combined somehow in a force, and freed itself reaching out there spurning such a reticent shadow upon you!
It's trying to hide you from this place, where we all reside now waiting for you and another and then another.....
The fear of the collection excites me as it once did not before and because I can already smell you,
The scary and the dread of it no longer hollers from a place of dangerous death, and some foreboding warning.
"I'm ALIVE", it preaches, "And no longer rearranged to be A-VEIL concealing truth and the horrors of it!"
The expelled and unravelled biography told in the aftermath of putrid revelations and costly dreams created and manufactured once just for me,
Is out there filling your voids.
And never for the good of all was the truth of these things hidden,
only told as the greatest lie wrapped by golden phrases shining pretty and that there is a tomorrow without death as the toll!
The second hand is already moving and the long hand stopped yesterday, just barely in time and for the wicked's chime,
Our perfect clocks now stopped,
yet we keep right on dancing,
all of us moving about in between Heaven's solace and Hell's consequential hold,
An intersection baring no gifts and also no nightmares somehow comforts the wrecked and the weary for they want nothing ahead,
--and so we wait for you, darlings.
We see you and know the dancing will stop soon and atop this mountain of pain your souls will come dropping,
We smell you and feel your silent realization and anticipate the weight of you crushing into our body of death,
Ding, dong, ding, dong my darlings! Hell now welcomes you home.