Night Terror

The sky is deep and murky green,
The white sun sinking over the horizon,
Extended by junk and litter.

This is the oxymoronic haven.
A carnival of despair
Filled with torturous laughter
Distorted, slow, hurdy-gurdy whistles,
And tinkling, unsettling music-boxes.

I look around this miserable paradise
To see my friends all around me.
They’ve encircled me,
But now they’re turning away,
Leaving me in this nightmarish heaven.
They don’t want me anymore.
What little usefulness I had,
I have long outlived. So they say.

And as they disperse,
The sun sets even more
And the laughter, the disturbing distorted jingles,
Replace the circle of friends, trapping me in the dark
As I turn to monochrome, the film grain masking
My cries of despair.

Suddenly, I’m falling.
Falling through a bottomless pit
No end. No beginning… Just oblivion…
Until my eyes open again…

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Ed Gosling

Signup / Login to follow the poet.
My muse is like an excitable dog. It catches sight of totally random things and starts yapping and running around and wagging its tail and WILL NOT STOP until I write a poem about it.My poetry is sometimes based on personal experience and sometimes on other things. Aside from that, I enjoy video games (My favourite game series is Mass Effect) and the popular television show My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic.
Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

Be the First to Comment & Review poem!

Notify of
avatar
wpDiscuz

Night Unto Three

Night Unto Three long poem

ever in two and the one in the three became one summer is gone and the rye is now only winter high it is the deep water long a sparrow less song in a long tall winter the autumn spring fawn the least

Night Water

Night Water short poem

At the beach, it’s night time about 8.00 p.m. Best time to come few people around. Air is crisp, clean; cool, and the white horses are having such fun. Can sit for hours or gently wade while she softly whispers

Next Night

Next Night short poem

I hate the self-immolation of orange sex. Weather was leaving blue strings on the skin. Redemption was incomplete by sharing the legs Lips will not knead the ears. Like wakng in darkness for a passage to grief. Black moon will

A Somber Night

A Somber Night short poem

A volcanic kiss was becoming ungreen. The shark was coming. All night it was raining. The sap was rising and love-farm was deluged. A blue moon walks on the dry eyes. Why the tears had gone to exile? A mole

Stormy Night

Stormy Night short poem

The dark clouds are rolling in quickly, wild wind blows fast and fiercely Many leaves and twigs start twirling around and circling Feeling like Edgar Allen Poe, In the distance I can hear some echo’s Of many dog’s barking in