A Catalog of Unnamed Dread
Something small with too many legs
Decides your skin is where it begs.
The edge of height calls out your name,
The fall below repeats the same.
A thought that grows and will not cease,
It feeds itself, denies you peace.
Pain, not here but drawing near,
Already whispers in your ear.
A room that seals what once was wide;
No door remains, no place to hide.
A laugh behind—too sharp, too late;
You turn to find it imitate.
A scent that clings, a quiet bloom,
You are the source within the room.
A needle waits, a sharpened breath,
A pointed promise close to death.
The mirror stalls, then lets you see
A shape you fear you’ll always be.
Cells divide in silent fright;
Unseen, unchecked, beneath the light.
The walls lean close without a sound,
They press until you’re tightly bound.
Your voice dissolves when eyes appear,
It folds itself and disappears.
Your body falters, weak and slight,
A trembling loss of inner might.
The thunder counts what you cannot name,
Each strike repeats your hidden shame.
You fail before you even start,
A quiet fracture in the heart.
A future where no one remains,
Just empty rooms and echoed names.
A number stretching without end;
No edge, no break, no final bend.
Strange hollow patterns split and grow,
In clustered depths you cannot know.
The ocean yawns too vast, too deep,
It does not wake, it does not sleep.
Dark forests breathe and learn your pace,
Each tree a watcher in that place.
Something buried, not yet gone;
It stirs beneath the coming dawn.
Dependence pulls, a heavy chain;
You lean, you fall, you feel the drain.
The world goes dry—no drop, no relief,
Just a cracking thirst beneath belief.
Punishment with no offense,
A verdict passed without defense.
To simply be is not enough;
They feel the need to call any bluff.
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