1
You spoke Heaven
But you brought Hell.
But you brought Hell.
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2
Writings / Dust in the Mirror
« on: September 24, 2023, 08:20:36 AM »
The Dust Witch is in the mirror,
She screams at me from inside
She sits on a filthy pig
And bellows bizarre utterances.
Her eyes are sewn shut
With cords of cursed leather
Made from the hide of demons
And sewn with a needle of bone
From a bog man
Whose flesh had been stripped clean
By time and hatred.
She screams at me from inside
She sits on a filthy pig
And bellows bizarre utterances.
Her eyes are sewn shut
With cords of cursed leather
Made from the hide of demons
And sewn with a needle of bone
From a bog man
Whose flesh had been stripped clean
By time and hatred.
3
Writings / Experience in the Middle of Nowhere
« on: September 22, 2023, 09:20:00 AM »
Today I drove back to the hotel from work. It was a rainy morning, but the sun was rising in the east and completely unobscured by clouds. To the east, a picturesque sunrise and to the south, clouds and rain.
After a non-eventful drive I arrived at the hotel - a plain establishment not worth the exorbitant amount charged for a stay, but decent enough that I didn't balk at the cost. You know the type of place. Not a mom and pop, but it's doubtful that the corporate office has much oversight out here in the middle of nowhere.
I walked in through the lobby - usually I go in at the side door because it's closer to the stairs, but today I wanted to grab something to eat for breakfast. In the breakfast area, were two mean old ladies with Brooklyn accents wearing their housecoats and hair in rollers. A third mean old lady with a Brooklyn accent and wearing her housecoat with her hair in rollers soon joined them. They began croaking around the kitchen area, looking for anything that the hotel didn't offer in the way of breakfast.
I grabbed a microwavable sausage biscuit and headed up to my room to eat breakfast and then pass out.
After a non-eventful drive I arrived at the hotel - a plain establishment not worth the exorbitant amount charged for a stay, but decent enough that I didn't balk at the cost. You know the type of place. Not a mom and pop, but it's doubtful that the corporate office has much oversight out here in the middle of nowhere.
I walked in through the lobby - usually I go in at the side door because it's closer to the stairs, but today I wanted to grab something to eat for breakfast. In the breakfast area, were two mean old ladies with Brooklyn accents wearing their housecoats and hair in rollers. A third mean old lady with a Brooklyn accent and wearing her housecoat with her hair in rollers soon joined them. They began croaking around the kitchen area, looking for anything that the hotel didn't offer in the way of breakfast.
I grabbed a microwavable sausage biscuit and headed up to my room to eat breakfast and then pass out.
4
What if we were never meant to be,
What if we never had a chance to make it?
What if the day we met,
Was some kind of cosmic accident,
And the way things should have worked out,
Was that we missed each other,
By the smallest fraction of a second,
I looked right,
When I should have looked left,
And we went our separate ways,
None the wiser?
What if we were coming home one night,
Very late, way past midnight,
And I took that turn too fast,
Lost control of the car,
Rolled it into the woods,
And we died a fiery death,
And everything we've experienced since,
Was simply the last lingering vestiges
Of our spirits,
Dreaming some sort of ghostly fantasy,
Of all the good that might have been?
In spite of all that,
I'd still love you just the same.
What if we never had a chance to make it?
What if the day we met,
Was some kind of cosmic accident,
And the way things should have worked out,
Was that we missed each other,
By the smallest fraction of a second,
I looked right,
When I should have looked left,
And we went our separate ways,
None the wiser?
What if we were coming home one night,
Very late, way past midnight,
And I took that turn too fast,
Lost control of the car,
Rolled it into the woods,
And we died a fiery death,
And everything we've experienced since,
Was simply the last lingering vestiges
Of our spirits,
Dreaming some sort of ghostly fantasy,
Of all the good that might have been?
In spite of all that,
I'd still love you just the same.
5
Writings / Knee Jerk Reviews #1
« on: April 18, 2015, 07:02:01 AM »
The X-Files S06E02: Drive
Walter White, who has apparently been working down at the shipyard recently, loses his mind and hijacks Mulder's car at gunpoint. Walter must get the antidote for his atrocious 70's hairstyle before that mustache of his becomes sentient and a threat to the whole human race. Will Scully produce the antidote in time?
Walter White, who has apparently been working down at the shipyard recently, loses his mind and hijacks Mulder's car at gunpoint. Walter must get the antidote for his atrocious 70's hairstyle before that mustache of his becomes sentient and a threat to the whole human race. Will Scully produce the antidote in time?
6
I've got a good job,
A beautiful wife,
Lovely children,
And we all live in a nice neighborhood.
I have friends galore,
People are so nice,
Most would do anything for me.
I want for nothing,
Life is beautiful
All the time,
Perfection has been attained.
And it's such a drag.
I'm going to leave it all behind,
Say goodbye
To the wife and kids.
I'm going to move to Sweden,
And become a death metal singer,
Paint dark makeup
Around my eyes,
Dye my hair black,
Start smoking cigarettes,
Start drinking more,
Smoke some crystal meth,
Think about death, a lot.
All the time, even.
I wonder
If the kids
Would buy my cd.
A beautiful wife,
Lovely children,
And we all live in a nice neighborhood.
I have friends galore,
People are so nice,
Most would do anything for me.
I want for nothing,
Life is beautiful
All the time,
Perfection has been attained.
And it's such a drag.
I'm going to leave it all behind,
Say goodbye
To the wife and kids.
I'm going to move to Sweden,
And become a death metal singer,
Paint dark makeup
Around my eyes,
Dye my hair black,
Start smoking cigarettes,
Start drinking more,
Smoke some crystal meth,
Think about death, a lot.
All the time, even.
I wonder
If the kids
Would buy my cd.
7
Writings / My Special Camera
« on: April 28, 2014, 11:48:34 AM »
I have a camera,
That's very old.
It's special.
It doesn't just take
A picture of things you can see,
It takes pictures of things
You don't want to see.
It's made of stone,
From the bottom of the river
That divided Babylon.
It records its terrible images
On film made of ancient paper
Boiled in the pot
Of a Haitian Voodoo witch doctor.
The lens was plucked,
From the eye of a long-dead Pharaoh,
Who knows what horrors
That lens has focused before
It was even placed in the camera.
I aim the camera at a man or a woman,
And press the shutter release,
It captures not the physical form of the subject,
But it records the soul,
The spirit, the ghost,
The what-the-will-become
If left to their own devices.
Never show the image
To the subject it photographed,
For this is surely
The way to madness.
That's very old.
It's special.
It doesn't just take
A picture of things you can see,
It takes pictures of things
You don't want to see.
It's made of stone,
From the bottom of the river
That divided Babylon.
It records its terrible images
On film made of ancient paper
Boiled in the pot
Of a Haitian Voodoo witch doctor.
The lens was plucked,
From the eye of a long-dead Pharaoh,
Who knows what horrors
That lens has focused before
It was even placed in the camera.
I aim the camera at a man or a woman,
And press the shutter release,
It captures not the physical form of the subject,
But it records the soul,
The spirit, the ghost,
The what-the-will-become
If left to their own devices.
Never show the image
To the subject it photographed,
For this is surely
The way to madness.
8
I've been having dreams lately. Well, the same dream over and over to be more accurate. The same horrible dream. I thought it was cool the first time I had it, being a fan of horror movies, but now there is nothing I wouldn't do to stop having this dream night after night, every night.
The dream starts with me just hanging out alone at home, not doing much of anything. Some nights I waste by watching crappy shows on television, some nights I'm reading a classic science fiction book by Isaac Asimov or Harry Harrison, sometimes in the dream I'm making dinner - it's almost always ramen noodles with a bit of chopped green onions, hard-boiled egg, pork and seaweed - a great meal for a dream or for reality. There is always the feeling that I am not normal, that I am the sort of person who is a little slow, a little helpless and not very apt at taking care of myself.
A sudden, blinding headache, a picture on the wall that I notice and can never seem to quite make out, and then a phone call that bursts into the dream like a ruined bell falling down the tower of a long abandoned church. The dreaded phone call. The phone call is where the dream goes bad, every time.
"Hello?" I say.
"Hello Bob. You ready to go?" says the voice on the line.
"Sure." My usual reply. I don’t know why I don’t just tell him no.
Fifteen minutes later there is a knock on the back door. He never comes to the front door. I open it and he walks in. "Hi Bob, jump in the car and let's go, I have a big night planned for us tonight."
"OK Bob" I say. "I'm ready."
We get in the car and Bob drives somewhere. It is always somewhere far away, around an hour or so, sometimes two. Sometimes we drive to a house, or a grocery store, or a mall. Wherever we go, it is to find someone. A person. Someone that Bob can do horrible things to.
One time Bob followed a guy from the grocery store to what was apparently the office he worked in. He went inside and came back a few minutes later, dragging the guy, unconscious, and put him in the back of the van. Then he dissolved the guy in a barrel of acid.
In another dream he told me that the lady in the house we visited was turning into a zombie and he crept inside her house through the sliding glass door in the back, and stabbed her in the back of the head with a replica samurai sword while she sat in front of her television. Then he dismembered her, chopped her into little bits and bones, and left the pieces scattered all over her house and yard. Before we left I saw her hand, lying on the bathroom floor, twitch seven times.
Another time Bob noticed a skateboarder kid at the mall, and he simply waited till the kid skated into a dark area behind the place and mowed him down with the van, speeding off before attracting attention from anyone.
Every time I have this terrible dream, I try to stop Bob. But he is insane, the worst kind of insane - a powerful insanity - and he won't listen to me. It's that feeling, that dream feeling, where you feel like you're underwater and moving in slow motion, like you're drugged and can barely move, that feeling of complete helplessness where you can't change what's happening, simply observe with a sinking feeling the frightful events unfolding in front of you and try to feel sympathetic towards Bob's victim of the day and try not to weep like a child, try not to experience the guilt that comes with not being able to do anything to prevent what’s happening. The running in slow motion feeling, like you're being pursued by a nameless evil and no matter how fast you move your legs you just can't seem to put any distance between you and the demon that's chasing you down the hallway of the house you grew up in. That's how I feel when Bob is committing his nightly atrocities on the poor, unsuspecting innocent public.
I can't have this dream anymore. I refuse. I don't know why my brain plagues me with this nightly hallucination. I figure the only way to stop myself from dreaming the dream is to stay awake. I’m taking caffeine pills and I drank a couple of Red Bulls. I have a Five Hour Energy drink here too, in case the pills and Red Bulls don't last all night. I'm keeping my fingers crossed. I've been awake for almost fifty hours now.
You know, now that I think of it, I'm not really sure if I was asleep all those nights or not.
Hold on, there's the phone...
The dream starts with me just hanging out alone at home, not doing much of anything. Some nights I waste by watching crappy shows on television, some nights I'm reading a classic science fiction book by Isaac Asimov or Harry Harrison, sometimes in the dream I'm making dinner - it's almost always ramen noodles with a bit of chopped green onions, hard-boiled egg, pork and seaweed - a great meal for a dream or for reality. There is always the feeling that I am not normal, that I am the sort of person who is a little slow, a little helpless and not very apt at taking care of myself.
A sudden, blinding headache, a picture on the wall that I notice and can never seem to quite make out, and then a phone call that bursts into the dream like a ruined bell falling down the tower of a long abandoned church. The dreaded phone call. The phone call is where the dream goes bad, every time.
"Hello?" I say.
"Hello Bob. You ready to go?" says the voice on the line.
"Sure." My usual reply. I don’t know why I don’t just tell him no.
Fifteen minutes later there is a knock on the back door. He never comes to the front door. I open it and he walks in. "Hi Bob, jump in the car and let's go, I have a big night planned for us tonight."
"OK Bob" I say. "I'm ready."
We get in the car and Bob drives somewhere. It is always somewhere far away, around an hour or so, sometimes two. Sometimes we drive to a house, or a grocery store, or a mall. Wherever we go, it is to find someone. A person. Someone that Bob can do horrible things to.
One time Bob followed a guy from the grocery store to what was apparently the office he worked in. He went inside and came back a few minutes later, dragging the guy, unconscious, and put him in the back of the van. Then he dissolved the guy in a barrel of acid.
In another dream he told me that the lady in the house we visited was turning into a zombie and he crept inside her house through the sliding glass door in the back, and stabbed her in the back of the head with a replica samurai sword while she sat in front of her television. Then he dismembered her, chopped her into little bits and bones, and left the pieces scattered all over her house and yard. Before we left I saw her hand, lying on the bathroom floor, twitch seven times.
Another time Bob noticed a skateboarder kid at the mall, and he simply waited till the kid skated into a dark area behind the place and mowed him down with the van, speeding off before attracting attention from anyone.
Every time I have this terrible dream, I try to stop Bob. But he is insane, the worst kind of insane - a powerful insanity - and he won't listen to me. It's that feeling, that dream feeling, where you feel like you're underwater and moving in slow motion, like you're drugged and can barely move, that feeling of complete helplessness where you can't change what's happening, simply observe with a sinking feeling the frightful events unfolding in front of you and try to feel sympathetic towards Bob's victim of the day and try not to weep like a child, try not to experience the guilt that comes with not being able to do anything to prevent what’s happening. The running in slow motion feeling, like you're being pursued by a nameless evil and no matter how fast you move your legs you just can't seem to put any distance between you and the demon that's chasing you down the hallway of the house you grew up in. That's how I feel when Bob is committing his nightly atrocities on the poor, unsuspecting innocent public.
I can't have this dream anymore. I refuse. I don't know why my brain plagues me with this nightly hallucination. I figure the only way to stop myself from dreaming the dream is to stay awake. I’m taking caffeine pills and I drank a couple of Red Bulls. I have a Five Hour Energy drink here too, in case the pills and Red Bulls don't last all night. I'm keeping my fingers crossed. I've been awake for almost fifty hours now.
You know, now that I think of it, I'm not really sure if I was asleep all those nights or not.
Hold on, there's the phone...
9
Writings / While You're Awake
« on: February 06, 2014, 11:03:51 PM »
Be careful
During the day,
As you go about
Your daily routine,
Conversing with friends, family, loved ones.
Be careful what you say,
Who you talk about.
Because the people in your dreams
Can hear you talking
While you're awake.
During the day,
As you go about
Your daily routine,
Conversing with friends, family, loved ones.
Be careful what you say,
Who you talk about.
Because the people in your dreams
Can hear you talking
While you're awake.
10
Writings / Scabs In My Ears
« on: February 06, 2014, 11:00:13 PM »
You are near me,
I can hear the rustling
Of the rags you wear,
Of the dirty coat
Made of dusk,
That brushes your feet
As you walk,
I can smell the foulness
The rank atmosphere,
That follows you far and wide.
I can see you,
Covered in the blackness
Of a wronged soul,
Painted with filth and ashes and soot.
You sit beside me
Whispering in my ear,
Fluttering syllables into my head,
Breathing sounds,
That assemble themselves
Into fearful words
Inside my mind,
Once there, erupting from
A cocoon of thoughts
Like a moth made of smoke,
With red lights in it's eyes,
Bent on destruction.
You tell me all sorts of things.
Your words are strangely beautiful,
Darkly poetic and shaped like shadows,
But your message is dark
And powerful,
And the words that fly
From your mouth to my ear,
Carry daggers and storms and monsters
Straight into my consciousness.
It makes my soul dark
And wilted and disfigured.
Go away.
I don't want you anymore today.
Come back tomorrow.
I can hear the rustling
Of the rags you wear,
Of the dirty coat
Made of dusk,
That brushes your feet
As you walk,
I can smell the foulness
The rank atmosphere,
That follows you far and wide.
I can see you,
Covered in the blackness
Of a wronged soul,
Painted with filth and ashes and soot.
You sit beside me
Whispering in my ear,
Fluttering syllables into my head,
Breathing sounds,
That assemble themselves
Into fearful words
Inside my mind,
Once there, erupting from
A cocoon of thoughts
Like a moth made of smoke,
With red lights in it's eyes,
Bent on destruction.
You tell me all sorts of things.
Your words are strangely beautiful,
Darkly poetic and shaped like shadows,
But your message is dark
And powerful,
And the words that fly
From your mouth to my ear,
Carry daggers and storms and monsters
Straight into my consciousness.
It makes my soul dark
And wilted and disfigured.
Go away.
I don't want you anymore today.
Come back tomorrow.
11
Writings / The Hiders
« on: August 11, 2013, 01:23:22 AM »
Sometimes, I like to visit cemeteries.
Especially if they are old and ancient,
With cracked markers scattered around,
Like teeth in the time-worn skull of a hag,
With gums made of spider webs,
Showing in a deranged smile between lips
Made from the parting of darkness and emptiness.
Headstones with dates from the 1800's,
Angels of death carved upon them,
And bits of prose meant to sum up
An entire existence in one sentence,
Failing miserably.
I like to wander places like this,
Peruse the moldy crypts,
The elaborate vaults and tombs,
Wonder about the people who lie there,
Imagine what they must have been like,
What their descendants are doing right now.
Certainly not thinking about the sleepers,
That I am surrounded with
Here in the cemetery.
The best time of day
To pay a visit
Is just before nightfall.
That way you hear every little bit of the story
That a graveyard is meant to tell.
When you are doing this,
Just keep in mind one thing;
Do not look behind the headstones,
The things there do not like to be noticed,
And you could very well become one of them.
Especially if they are old and ancient,
With cracked markers scattered around,
Like teeth in the time-worn skull of a hag,
With gums made of spider webs,
Showing in a deranged smile between lips
Made from the parting of darkness and emptiness.
Headstones with dates from the 1800's,
Angels of death carved upon them,
And bits of prose meant to sum up
An entire existence in one sentence,
Failing miserably.
I like to wander places like this,
Peruse the moldy crypts,
The elaborate vaults and tombs,
Wonder about the people who lie there,
Imagine what they must have been like,
What their descendants are doing right now.
Certainly not thinking about the sleepers,
That I am surrounded with
Here in the cemetery.
The best time of day
To pay a visit
Is just before nightfall.
That way you hear every little bit of the story
That a graveyard is meant to tell.
When you are doing this,
Just keep in mind one thing;
Do not look behind the headstones,
The things there do not like to be noticed,
And you could very well become one of them.
12
Writings / Ghosts Like To Play Games
« on: May 24, 2013, 03:24:17 AM »
Ghosts like to play games,
Spirits like to hide and seek.
Diversions for devils,
Rollicking revenant recreations,
Spectral sport.
They need their phantasmic pastimes,
Just as those of us
On the right side of things
Need ours.
So when you see the cue ball
Silently trundle on the table,
When you notice
BLEH
Spirits like to hide and seek.
Diversions for devils,
Rollicking revenant recreations,
Spectral sport.
They need their phantasmic pastimes,
Just as those of us
On the right side of things
Need ours.
So when you see the cue ball
Silently trundle on the table,
When you notice
BLEH
13
Writings / The R-virus
« on: May 24, 2013, 01:32:46 AM »
Thank God there are people out there! I have been wandering since the day everyone died. I am in southeastern North Carolina, somewhere in Brunswick county. I thought I was the last man alive. I haven't seen anyone, alive that is, in at least a week.
When I woke up the first morning, everyone was dead. I ran from house to house banging on doors, tried calling 911, drove to the police station, etc. No one was moving, anywhere. There were wrecked cars in the street, cars everywhere, buses, scooters, vehicles everywhere. I didn't understand what was going on. When I got back to my house, it occurred to me to check reddit and see if my local subreddit knew anything, but by the time I got back to my house the power had gone out. I had heard some explosion type sounds earlier in the day, so it must have been transformers blowing for some reason. I saw a couple of houses on fire as well, and no firetrucks anywhere to be found.
I have moved passed the initial panic that I felt on that first day, and after a few days of staying locked inside my house, I finally decided to venture out and see if anything had changed. The first place I went was to the grocery store down the street from my place. I couldn't even get near the front door of the place, the smell was unbelievable. There was no one there, of course. No one alive, that is. I managed to get to the hardware store a few blocks away and snag a respirator, then I went back to the store and got inside and got what canned goods I needed. I definitely will have food for quite some time. It was a chore though, because inside the store, in the dark, with corpses all around, I could only think about the Walking Dead and other zombie flicks. So you can imagine how difficult it was to steel myself and enter the place. But at this point I've gotten used to doing stuff like that.
So today, the power came on. It is on right now. I almost reverted to full blown panic when the lights suddenly came on, but I controlled myself and flew to the computer. I watched the lights on the cable modem, and surprisingly it connected, and now here I am. I am amazed that there are other people out there! I thought I was the last man alive!
And now I know that it is the R-virus, that it only affected non-redditors. I know there is a small contingent of reddit users across the bridge in Wilmington, so I may venture over there tomorrow and try to seek them out. But for now I am just relieved to know that there are still other humans out there.
Now that I have gotten that out of the way, I have a question - has anyone else noticed the red strings? I've seen them floating down from the sky four times now. I never see where they go, but yesterday while scouting around I found a car with three men in it that were covered in these red strings. The strings are one to two feet long, about 0.1 inch diameter and they seem... fuzzy. I can't think of a better word to describe them. Just fuzzy. Anyway, the strings were all over these three guys, especially around their faces. It looked as if the strings had crawled right into their nostrils and mouths and ears. It was really disgusting. I am getting used to seeing death and decay now, but this was worse than usual. And here's the thing about this - the car was still idling, and these three guys didn't look like everyone else - they seemed "fresh", as if they had died much more recently then the rest of the corpses. I went back today and the car is still there but the bodies and the strings are gone. Every time I see these strings floating down, there are thousands of them and they form a column that goes up hundreds of feet, so high I can't see where they are coming from and I also can't find where they are going. If anyone knows about this, please tell me. For now I am going to stay as far away from them as I can if I see them.
After this post I am going to go next door and "scavenge" a television, on the off-chance that there are any broadcasts, news or just anything at all on the air. If there are any other North Carolina survivors out there, speak up! We need to band together!
When I woke up the first morning, everyone was dead. I ran from house to house banging on doors, tried calling 911, drove to the police station, etc. No one was moving, anywhere. There were wrecked cars in the street, cars everywhere, buses, scooters, vehicles everywhere. I didn't understand what was going on. When I got back to my house, it occurred to me to check reddit and see if my local subreddit knew anything, but by the time I got back to my house the power had gone out. I had heard some explosion type sounds earlier in the day, so it must have been transformers blowing for some reason. I saw a couple of houses on fire as well, and no firetrucks anywhere to be found.
I have moved passed the initial panic that I felt on that first day, and after a few days of staying locked inside my house, I finally decided to venture out and see if anything had changed. The first place I went was to the grocery store down the street from my place. I couldn't even get near the front door of the place, the smell was unbelievable. There was no one there, of course. No one alive, that is. I managed to get to the hardware store a few blocks away and snag a respirator, then I went back to the store and got inside and got what canned goods I needed. I definitely will have food for quite some time. It was a chore though, because inside the store, in the dark, with corpses all around, I could only think about the Walking Dead and other zombie flicks. So you can imagine how difficult it was to steel myself and enter the place. But at this point I've gotten used to doing stuff like that.
So today, the power came on. It is on right now. I almost reverted to full blown panic when the lights suddenly came on, but I controlled myself and flew to the computer. I watched the lights on the cable modem, and surprisingly it connected, and now here I am. I am amazed that there are other people out there! I thought I was the last man alive!
And now I know that it is the R-virus, that it only affected non-redditors. I know there is a small contingent of reddit users across the bridge in Wilmington, so I may venture over there tomorrow and try to seek them out. But for now I am just relieved to know that there are still other humans out there.
Now that I have gotten that out of the way, I have a question - has anyone else noticed the red strings? I've seen them floating down from the sky four times now. I never see where they go, but yesterday while scouting around I found a car with three men in it that were covered in these red strings. The strings are one to two feet long, about 0.1 inch diameter and they seem... fuzzy. I can't think of a better word to describe them. Just fuzzy. Anyway, the strings were all over these three guys, especially around their faces. It looked as if the strings had crawled right into their nostrils and mouths and ears. It was really disgusting. I am getting used to seeing death and decay now, but this was worse than usual. And here's the thing about this - the car was still idling, and these three guys didn't look like everyone else - they seemed "fresh", as if they had died much more recently then the rest of the corpses. I went back today and the car is still there but the bodies and the strings are gone. Every time I see these strings floating down, there are thousands of them and they form a column that goes up hundreds of feet, so high I can't see where they are coming from and I also can't find where they are going. If anyone knows about this, please tell me. For now I am going to stay as far away from them as I can if I see them.
After this post I am going to go next door and "scavenge" a television, on the off-chance that there are any broadcasts, news or just anything at all on the air. If there are any other North Carolina survivors out there, speak up! We need to band together!
14
You write your songs and sing them to me
You make your music easy on the ears
But I'm still there day after day
Driving my car home from work
Facing the same fears
Still the same, no matter what you say
So what good did that do?
Now I'm right in front of you
Trying to get through
You think you're watching television
Or walking down the sidewalk
All the while I've got you by the shoulders
Shaking you
Screaming the truth
And you don't even know
It's because I see everything
For what it truly is
And you've been blinded by your selfishness.
You make your music easy on the ears
But I'm still there day after day
Driving my car home from work
Facing the same fears
Still the same, no matter what you say
So what good did that do?
Now I'm right in front of you
Trying to get through
You think you're watching television
Or walking down the sidewalk
All the while I've got you by the shoulders
Shaking you
Screaming the truth
And you don't even know
It's because I see everything
For what it truly is
And you've been blinded by your selfishness.
15
Writings / Mr. Mostly-Dead
« on: April 09, 2013, 12:09:13 AM »
Well, good evening sir,
I am Mr. Mostly-Dead,
And I'll be your nightmare tonight.
Welcome to the House of Dust,
I hope we can give you a fright.
Can I start you with something simple,
Maybe the inability to run
While being pursued by
An invisible horror,
Or an angry, jibbering nun?
Or maybe murdered by a loved one
Is more your taste.
We also have a lovely Hag
Who will sit on your chest,
And prevent you from breathing
Until it is almost too late,
And you wake with a start and a gag.
What's that? None of those?
Well let me show you our menu.
It is packed with superb
Visions and terrors
Created by chef, just for you.
Now you may notice,
Our chef is a bit
Of a nightmare himself,
He is quite the ghastly fellow.
But he does his job well,
He's the best in the land,
We're proud to have him in Limbo.
Now, back to the menu,
You simply must order something,
Ah, you say you've found something to your taste?
What's this? Flying,
Alone in the clouds,
Is the order you'd like to place?
Oh no sir,
You do not understand.
That one is not for you.
That is the childrens menu
You're looking at,
Flying will simply not do.
Turn the page,
And gaze upon
The delights we have in store.
Gryphons that chase
And gnaw, and chew,
And hands that come up
Through the floor.
Floating ladies that chase,
And disturb the soul,
And a phantasm or two.
People you don't see
Who aren't really there,
But nevertheless, pursue.
I'd recommend
Starting out small,
Maybe a goblin to battle.
Then an appetizer
Of bone-men who laugh,
And cackle and shriek and rattle.
Then on to the main course,
We offer the finest,
In unpleasant psyche disruption.
Things with no faces
Devils and warlocks,
All agents of dark corruption.
Lastly, desert.
Something special, I think.
You'll find this
Nowhere but here.
A special torment
We've made just for you,
I am Mr. Mostly-Dead,
And I'll be your nightmare tonight.
Welcome to the House of Dust,
I hope we can give you a fright.
Can I start you with something simple,
Maybe the inability to run
While being pursued by
An invisible horror,
Or an angry, jibbering nun?
Or maybe murdered by a loved one
Is more your taste.
We also have a lovely Hag
Who will sit on your chest,
And prevent you from breathing
Until it is almost too late,
And you wake with a start and a gag.
What's that? None of those?
Well let me show you our menu.
It is packed with superb
Visions and terrors
Created by chef, just for you.
Now you may notice,
Our chef is a bit
Of a nightmare himself,
He is quite the ghastly fellow.
But he does his job well,
He's the best in the land,
We're proud to have him in Limbo.
Now, back to the menu,
You simply must order something,
Ah, you say you've found something to your taste?
What's this? Flying,
Alone in the clouds,
Is the order you'd like to place?
Oh no sir,
You do not understand.
That one is not for you.
That is the childrens menu
You're looking at,
Flying will simply not do.
Turn the page,
And gaze upon
The delights we have in store.
Gryphons that chase
And gnaw, and chew,
And hands that come up
Through the floor.
Floating ladies that chase,
And disturb the soul,
And a phantasm or two.
People you don't see
Who aren't really there,
But nevertheless, pursue.
I'd recommend
Starting out small,
Maybe a goblin to battle.
Then an appetizer
Of bone-men who laugh,
And cackle and shriek and rattle.
Then on to the main course,
We offer the finest,
In unpleasant psyche disruption.
Things with no faces
Devils and warlocks,
All agents of dark corruption.
Lastly, desert.
Something special, I think.
You'll find this
Nowhere but here.
A special torment
We've made just for you,