I Saw a Man That Wasn't There.

He's right behind me,
lurking like a snake;
I can see him moving.

Memories swim through me like
parasites ready to feed.
I remember what was stolen from me;
is that you I see? Are you my thief?

My stomach drops,
heat rushes through my skin;
pores produce a cold sweat.
Hyper ventilation.

I'm frozen.
He's watching me,
touching me with his deranged mind.
His hands painted with putrid sin.

I turn around-
nobody's there.
Have I finally begun to lose my mind?
Insanity sets in;
It suits me well.


••This poem is the second part of my series on "The Fear of darkness " . Please, all your honest comments, criticism, & observations are paramount to E-smiles.• •

When The Autumn Moon Is Bright.

I am not alone
I can feel it in my bones
The shifting darkness
Fear; more then I can express
I cannot see, think or hear
All I can feel is fear

Darker than the endless night
Darkness around me like airborne blight
Consumed by engorging shadows
At the mercy of the dark hallows
Ominous aura throughout the halls
Dark around me; like unholy falls

Breathing irregular and fast
Senses gone but fear outlasts
Alone, afraid
Being shrouded by black shade
Obfuscation of all surroundings
It can scent my fear

The 'it' I speak of is the creature with me
Watching my uncontrollable fear with glee
It prowls behind me, breathing down my neck
I turn around, but cannot see even a speck
But wait-I can see something glowing,
Glowing eyes, shifting and growing

Gazing into my fearful eyes
The fear seems to incise
The eyes continue to grow,
Yellow footprints in black snow
I can no longer breath, I fall down, clawing my throat
I can feel a gash, engraved into the cartilage of my throat.


*This poem obviously has to do with someone who has phobia for darkness,I tried to imagine how someone who suffers such phobia ,feels at night. And I hope I potrayed it well enough.
It has another part, "I Saw a Man That Wasn't There" which also takes us through the character,hallucinating in the dark. I hope you enjoy*
Please, All your honest Comments, Criticism , Observations are paramount to E-Smiles

Your Silly Little Fool.

Keep looking at me like there's nothing more to see,
Just stare when I make myself look like a fool,
Laugh at my failures,
Smirk at the smallest of my attempts,
I try to keep the happiness,
I try to keep my pride,
But you're always taking that,
Now I am a fraud,
My sanity is waning,
My self respect is gone,
All of it to make you see,
There's more to me that I used to go and hide,
You see me as a failure,
Although you tell me otherwise,
You say I'm perfect and that there's no better person,
I crave your attention but the more I get the more I die inside,
Am a toy in which you can throw around,
Am I not allowed to have a happy ending,
Slowly dying,
Crying for myself,
Weak and unstable and people wonder why,
It's because I changed and became your silly fool,
My heart is slowly breaking,
Twisiting to try to fit in your desire,
I've never been good enough to hold a good thing down,
Now I live in constant fear of how I'll live this down,
But for now I am just your silly little fool.

The Night Belongs To The Poets & Madmen.

We Dream of Living

As we sleep, the world moves forward.
We beg for it to take us back.

The ebony skies once danced with lightning,
reflections of beauty only nature's eyes behold.

As we sleep, we dream of living,
we dream of having something more.
Regretting things left unfinished
and of things we have left unsaid.

We wonder, if it would be better
to remain broken under this
cold, cold earthly tomb that holds us.

We dream of skies that shine brighter
and a world with far less to fear.

As we sleep, we dream of something...
we dream of our heavens, or hells.
Questioning if this is a lie
and wondering how long we dreamt.

We realize, only too soon
that we can only dream of life
and death consumes our empty thoughts.

Calmness as I traverse these stairs
Darkness ahead, but I don’t care
Ghosts welcoming me home
I slip into bed, and I’m alone


We dream, and desire, and fail.
Six feet holds us back like steel chains.

Song Bird.

I'm sitting beneath the old oak tree,
Feeling light and feeling free.
I hear a sweet song fall upon me.
And I slowly drift to sleep.

The song birds voice is full of magic.
It can be beautiful. It can be tragic.
All the other birds wish they had it.
And so that song bird sings.

I can hear its melody in my dreams.
As warm and comforting as summer sun beams.
My consciousness is ripping at the seams.
I feel I may never wake.

The song is powerful and truly hypnotic.
Stronger than the doctor's narcotics.
With a foreign tune, harmony exotic.
This music; so unique.

This fowl is a symphony all on its own.
Wings like drums, vocals like a xylophone.
Talent in every feather and bone.
I wish that bird was mine.

But alas, that bird is forever free.
And so it flies away from me.
My dream is over. I begin to see.
I am all alone.

So I stand and I look around.
Knowing well, that bird cannot be found.
And when I am done I sit back down.
And shed a single tear.

I do not cry because I'm sad.
I do not cry because I'm glad.
I do not cry because it was bad.
I cry because I know.

I know one day soon I will return.
In hopes that I might possibly earn,
That song for which I always yearn.
From the lovely song bird.

Eleven Mondays.

Not a beaten, broken child
Not a victim of abuse
Never saw my daddy drink
Never felt his fierce fist.

No ghostly memory in my past
Except that one…
…and that’s not so bad

Screaming from shadows cast aside
The sun drifts away from where I hide
Such darkness echoes through these halls
Such painful reminders upon its walls


Such life I seemed to once portray
Such naivety begging to be betrayed
Weaving ghosts call out my name!
Whispering demons discuss my shame!

So why do my eyes burn with tears?
Why does my throat tighten?
Why do I feel heavy?
Why can’t I answer “why”?

No traumatic past to haunt me
No scars of abuse
No maltreatment

Yes I’m different
Yes I feel different
No, I don’t understand

There’s no reason for this darkness
No cause for this turmoil
Insanity it may be
But I feel sane –

– Can I feel sane if I feel wrong?

Not a happy, healthy girl
But they don’t guess I’m broken
Not a cheerful, smiley girl
Still they don’t know I’m hurting

How can I talk about this pain
When I don’t know its causes
How can I talk
without words?

I can’t
I must
I can’t

The Old Graveyard.

Across the dark expanse my worries flew;
Nothing made sense
Spinning in all directions
The ground shifted beneath me
It came closer and closer
Faster and faster
Until I hit a Cool damp pavement
The taste of hot blood
Running from cheek to chin
Jumbled thoughts in my head
My head reeling
Questions swirled in my ears
Spinning in different directions
My eyes wanted to close
I tried to crawl
The grass came close to my nose
Cool, damp, earth

Old, dark and scary,
The gate eerily creeks open.
A ghastly breeze in the air.
The winds carry the cries,
Down towards the town.
And everlasting song is heard.
Tombstones everywhere,
Two or three angels in sight.
Whispers and cries can be heard in the air,
Echoes of the people who shed their tears,
And whispered their prayers to the dead.
Not a single living form is seen,
No flowers or plants,
No birds or animals anymore.
People hardly ever come up the hill,
To this old rundown graveyard.
So the dead are free to roam,
These hills of the old forgotten town.