Nightdweller

Torrance, California, USA

That my words should set ablaze the forest of the mind, and leave embers of emotions lingering within, I script verse. That I would open the dark caverns of my mind for excavation, I offer these words as tools. I am a writer of a gothic nature, and I've been scripting verse since the coming of One Thousand Nine Hundred Ninety Two. My birth name is Thomas Ro and I welcome in all those whose curiosity brings them to my exhibit of gothic poetry. I hope you all enjoy the lunacy created from the madness of my mind!

Graveyard Memories

To dwell upon the past
And be forlorned.
Forlorned at finding
Nothing more than
An ending of life
And of a liveliness
Long since dead,
Never to be awakened again.

Suffocated by the
Putrid scent of
Self deprecation,
Which permeates so profoundly,
All that exists is
Misery, hate and spite,
In a now blackened heart;
An aberration created from within.

A growing monstrosity that encompasses
The very soul, like a cancerous black tumor,
Does it feed from the emptiness
That lingers deep inside.
Until there is only
The bitter cold left,
An open gateway to a
Never-ending life of death.

The Silent Scream

Bound by a never-ending nightmare,
I find myself encaged within a maze of madness
Desperately seeking an out.
But search as I may,
Wander as I would,
Every path chosen
Becomes a mere extension of another,
And every turn taken
Becomes another dead end.

Quickly entangled in the web of passages,
I become
A player in a game without finish,
A traveler on a journey without destination;
As I roam within the walls of the maze.

Evermore impounded inside the belly of the beast,
I am diseased,
I am plagued,
I am wrought with the madness
Which consumes me piece by piece.

Until the sanctuary so sought after,
Presents itself to me.
The sanctuary to peace of mind.
The sanctuary away from this psychotic dream
Which kills me slowly.

That I would be liberated, I embrace it wholly,
Only to discover myself naked
In a wilderness made of thorns,
In search of a key
To a door
Which holds no room...

The Silence of Tomorrow

Unyielding is the sword of dark sorrows,
That eviscerates the youth of innocence
From a world that cradles them with comfort,
And leaves them within a forest of pain
With trees that swallow their soul.

Their innocence, replaced by decayed maturity,
They shed tears of blood
That feeds the soil
By which this forest is deeply rooted.

So full of:
Fear,
Hatred,
Loneliness,
Resentment,
Anger
From paradise lost,
Their hearts burn with flames
That consume it to blackened ashes.

Cast aside from the world they once did know,
Their cries echo & reverberate without sound;
And as they fall from the weight of grief
So set upon their youthful shoulders,
They come to rest on a bed of morosity...
Lulled to sleep by the silence of tomorrow.

Lost Souls

Seekers of happiness
But finders of heartache,
They inject themselves
With what they hope
Will bring them to what they seek.
Lost and adrift in time
Without destination,
They are caught in a
Vortex of confusion
To be saved by an
Island of insanity.

Alone and surrounded
By a sea infested with addiction,
They try to walk
The straight & narrow path to safety.
But lost without hope, they find themselves
Walking the crooked line;
And as they find out
The more they take
The more they lose,
Their line is finally straightened.

The Kiss of Night

Dark upon the night
As the moon is risen,
The sounds of silence
Cry out to those who seek
The companionship of shadows.

A vast endless vacuum
Of blackened day,
They are sucked into an existence
Where darkness looms over them,
Cradles them,
Blankets them with security.

Released from the mares that haunt the mind
And taken in by
The shielding shadows of the dark,
They are embellished with life anew,
Away from the solitude reaped
By the scars of wounds that bite.

In a playground of discontent,
In an asylum of euphoria,
Under the veil of darkness
Do they smile and frolic,
Soothed by the kiss of night.