Hunter

I stalked prey
Late at night
And just after dawn

They didn’t know me here
The hills, the sustain
The pain of the day

The rush of walking
In another’s shoes
In following the path

The risk associated with
Faking most days
In camouflage

Something that wouldn’t
Be suspicious, or wouldn’t
Stand out

Is it improper
To hunt without
Wearing your pith?

It’s the genetic survivalist
In me praising the brilliance
Of taking truth with a twist

Not lying
But telling half-truths
And leaving the rest behind

Left for dead
In the wastelands
Of time as I step forward

A falsehood
A prey in sight
A hunter in flight

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Visage

Behind the lenses
Are eyes that are patient

They observe and have
The nerve for waiting
To see what might be
Made of the blank slate

Reflective glasses

Mirroring the observed
Back to themselves
As they wonder what thoughts
Lie behind the opaque mask

What ideas lurk
And what poison
Must perk
A mask to shift

Quiet and cold
Incalculable
Beyond those
Mirrored nerves

Escapist

Escapist

They know I’m here
They hunt me, and I hide
I crawl through vents to evade
Into shadows, I must fade

I sneak and slip around
Hoping to remain unfound
Ducking through hallways
And living like a fall leaf

I am already dead
Feverish thoughts are only fed
Searching in misty buildings
I wish they would find and kill me

Suffering is living like a virus
No death for me, that is too pious
Here I crawl through grey vents
Not dead, but living is too tense

Imitating the intoxication of dreams
My fragile form wanders through
Foggy hallways and crowded streets
Stumbling over everything as I move

My pursuers let my ego starve
Until I fall upon a wall to carve
My last thought that makes sense
Then my spirit to heaven is lent

I…
I…
I wake…
I wake up

I think…
I can’t think
What is thought?
Where am I?

In the grey hallway again
The room begins to slow its spin
On the floor, I’m laying down
Staring at a sad ceiling that is brown

My scribbled garble is still there
How much time has passed?
Not much, that I am aware
I cannot move, but I must last

It all comes again into focus
I have again my animus
But where have the hunters been?
I have to leave now. I must flee.

Crippled by dread, I walk
No vox of mine will talk
I must be quiet, hide away
I fade into walls, and all is the same

Sew a Wire Smile

Sew a Wire Smile

Jaw trapped shut from stitching of steel
I can’t speak whatever’s on mind
No one knows, no one knows how I feel
Wrapped up tight in copper and iron

Rusting, and threatening to bleed
Cold, my mind I wish to flee

I am choked up on metal

Scream loud

Sew a wire smile

Let my words betray you well
You can’t know how deep I’m in hell
Perservere through this torrent of pain
Once I’m free there is some sort of gain

Rusting, and leaking with oil
Cold, the tight wire coils

I am choked up on metal

Scream loud

Sew a wire smile

I walk from town to town
I plunge the iron further
I take my words without worth
And let my actions teach you

Sew a wire smile

My only hope is you don’t get it
If you did you’d only mix in
Help me one last time if you please
Take these plier handles and squeeze

Contort my face into what you want
I would myself but you know I can’t
Take these stitches, twist and wrench
Bleed me further, rend me silent

Rusting, and finally at peace
Cold, yet with life a new lease

I am choked up on metal

Scream loud

Sew a wire smile

Puppet

Puppet

Hide and cower and skulk away
Run and flee and hold still
Avoid the grasp of the terror mask
Sweat and panic and be afraid

Keep on the other monsters
That stalk you during night
But never forget this one
For it will hunt you without light

When you fail
Because you will
You will know when you do
And there is no going back

Without sound, it’ll come for you
The signs will say it is time to die
You’ll pray it won’t find you
But The Puppet always will

No warning, it’ll jump onto you
Hideous face and terrifying features
Dried purple tears and void eyes
Yet white pupils and red diamonds

Lanky arms spring out of darkness
Twisted and ensnaring, can’t escape
Its come for your corrupt soul
Its come to steal your petty life

Its face will stare into yours
It’ll scream until silence
When you finally pass
Repeating the words “It’s me”

Mask Maker

Mask Maker

There was a man who built a mask
Being careful; not too fast
Sizing the thing and trying it on
Until one day a small barb cut him

A triviality, the man paid no mind
Continuing his work as he did
But once more he tried it on
And on removal, he saw his thumb

Dozens of tiny holes marked pricks
From the wire he used in crafting
He brushed off the thought
And to clense it he did naught

Days passed by, wire manipulated
More cuts on the man’s face
More pinpricks upon his hands
Signs: the mask nearing completion

On the final day, the man looked into a mirror
What stared back at him wasn’t him
It was the scars of his work, blinking
It was a soul of deceit in rare raw

Don the mask, the man now did
Covering face, obscuring the scars
No matter what design he crafted
He will forever bear scars he made