In the Dim Excesses of the Reaching Night

In the dim excesses of the reaching night,
I came across visions grotesque and grim,
Enough normally that was to awaken through fright,
But filled my evocations to their brim. 
The barefoot children as they walked,
Along these very streets where lines meet,
To an unseen authority they balked,
Bruises forming on their misshapen feet.
From door to door, they begged and pleaded, 
To the concealed faces of a known droit, 
Of their entailed desires others entreated,
"By thy name, exalted, we are help's choice!" 
From my home had emerged a chalet,
Gripped in emergent rustles and leaves;
Silence's obtrude encompassed the navy palette,
And its inhabitants, beyond myself, were thieves. 
These braggarts, they dwelled in my walls, 
Uttering enchantments to a forsaken deity,
And with no relent, arrayed themselves with horns,
Covering themselves in scales, to sham piety.
Wretched abominations came to me as I rested, 
While retaining my state of dormant slumber,
Their cerise eyes I have since, and long detested,
Of many insolent nights where they became my cumber. 
And the worshippers, from the dreariest of sight, 
Came to me to grant an urge of ceaseless dread, 
Accompanied by the visions of a harrowed plant's blight,
To request my attention, that they were themselves dead.
Their scourge ended as I was placed ahead of a man,
Whose appearance was no different than another,
Who warned me of the travesties of his hand, 
"Shalt thou be known of the wise man's will to discover!" 
Images of terror he then wrought, 
From shrieking and shriveled skulls, 
Never once such a terror have I sought,
In this dormancy of this burdened man's tools. 
Category:Poetry