The End of the World

Silent Dark
Deep within the silent dark,
beyond the reach of even the bravest of men.
It waits in slumber,
twisting harshly in the dying light.
Gliding susurrantly across the blasted floor,
tendrils snap and writhe,
It hunts,
in the only way it truly can.
It’s twisting strands unfurl,
giant structures of shining, juddering flesh.
Coils of stinging barbs streak through the silent depths,
searching for their prey.
Striking without striking,
they capture their prey,
silent strands coiling around their flesh.
Searing toxins are pumped through glimmering, fleshy nacelles,
into the struggling victim.
Their life shall be seared from their bones,
their flesh shall be burnt of all that is,
leaving naught but a lifeless, barren
husk of flesh.
Such is the fate of all who face this glimmering thing.
And so it waits,
in the silent dark,
twisting, endless coils of juddering flesh and shimmering light.
The eternal guardian of things never meant to be.
A shining trespasser from worlds beyond our own.
It waits for us,
spreading it’s silent coils,
across the ocean deep,
For the day it shall wake from it’s everlasting sleep.
For the day it shall sing from it’s thousand gaping maws,
The Song that shall End Reality.

I wake up

survive the day


tomorrow I’ll

wake up

survive the day


and the day after and the day after that

stuck in an endless cycle

cramped between the walls of

consciousness and dreams

entering sleep with my teeth clenched

to fight the nightmares that I know will haunt me

waking up with invisible scars

only to relive the horror again

I’m drowning in my own sorrow

going deaf from the

voices inside my head




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