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| Dark Poetry #3 |
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wandering Member
since 2001-01-21
Posts 92 |
The room tilts at a sickly angle. I slide towards the yawning abyss of black Waiting to devour me. Sharp fangs of betrayal Snap anxiously in the anticipation Of a quick meal of my anxiety. Nails claw feverously At a floor slick with regret. No grip. No escape. No screams To hasten my rescue will be heard. My nightmare has become reality. My reality has beome a nightmare. Where is the line drawn between them. Unknown is the answer As I helplessy slide across it Into the yawing abyss of black. lost in thought, found in words. wanderer |
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| © Copyright 2001 Ron Fox - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Isis Member Ascendant
since 1999-09-06
Posts 6296Sunny Queensland |
Wonderful imagery depicting the darkness and/or horror we all face at times. Well done  Isis *War produces one thing - Cemetaries. And in cemetaries there are no enemies!* ~Isis~~Sovereign of the Spirit. |
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Lady Lost Member
since 2000-07-13
Posts 470 |
Definitely a descriptive tale of fear, an awesome post. ....beth "I mean that loving you is strange and adored by me throughout..oh no it's you again, blessing you with every kiss..." |
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