The Witching Hour

This certainly wasn't the best night I've had in a while.

The witching hour illuminated in a deep blue

Creating a peaceful and haunting hue

As the world around ceases its very motion

Making it nothing but a quiet empty emotion.

Existence feels subtle like a thin seam

Holding up spirits and the physical on a thin beam.

I lay motionless and drowsy from long sleep

But my head is alive at hearing voices from the deep.

As the late hour draws closely near

My sense begin to go until I can only hear

Nothing at all in this endless pitch dark

Until the clock finally hits that mark.

The thread between reality and the dead is sliced

And in my mind the dark matter is spliced.

Shadows begin to roam along the black walls

All around the room and every one of the halls.

The visitors are shades on a solid black surface

Somehow lighter and darker but leaving no trace.

They steal into every bead of my consciousness

Showing glimpses of mystic worlds I couldn't guess.

Visions of the loves I yearn to attain

Show me the times free from the pain.

A bright and gleaming city and town

So in this blissful happiness I drown. 

Horrifying messages from the abyss

Tear away at my eyes until I cannot miss

Fiendish spawn of hell mutilating all my cares

Slowly ripping out my eyes and limbs and hairs.

They let go and chuckled demonic cackles

Giving out malicious vexes and heckles.

But steal into the night in search of more

Before I lay in shock of what I saw before.

Perhaps I could venture further if I had dreamt

But my sleep schedule was never well kempt.

Thrashing about to find sleep's calling

As I am thrown further awake by visions appalling. 

The night peters out and shadows end their shows

Along with them the witching hour goes. 

Once again clarity befalls my weary head

And I lay motionless at last in my bed.

Some shadows lingered long in my mind

For they are locked in an anxious depressive bind

As they steal away in the darkness of my skull

Bashing my brain like a battered ship's hull.

They sit in wait of the very next night

Slaughtering my livelihood in hateful spite.

Demons and ghouls taking hold of power

For I will soon be prey at the next witching hour.