Lullaby Drifting in and out of the fog of a shadowed sleep, sirens serenading the night racing like a fading pulse in the distance but I am already too close to leaving my ghost to its dreaming to give resistance slowing breaths to a haunting whisper emergency lights scream no more than a whimper and…
A Haunting Hunger
A Haunting Hunger My mind is a dark abandoned house with battered walls, lonely hallways, sealed secret doors and small cracks through boarded up windows that bleed just enough light for the shadows to feed ©Debbie Berk 2016
The Devouring
Trapped in this dark space soul lost to an even darker fate and time moves like a slow curse in the belly of the ever ravenous worm the watchful predator with a devoted kind of sickness, mad and twisted like love stalking its prey, waiting in the silent shadows to collect what is owed, eager…
The Night The Darkness Would Not Die
Words & Image ©Debbie Berk 2016 / www.debbieberk.com /debbiedberk@gmail.com
Keepers of the Misfit Gardens
Keepers of the Misfit Gardens We navigate the darkness with little more than the light of our dreams to guide us, more lost than found, more hopeful than knowing We stake our claims on forsaken ground planting wildly impatient and imperfect seeds, while loving and nurturing weeds; finding beauty in the most unbeautiful things 10/7/2015…
She
lives, a shadow within the glass her full reflection never a complete clarity as her image remains half between the worlds of neither here nor there but only stuck somewhere in time like a ghost, or an old photography out of focus and ever fading as she slips further into the darkness; never fully living…
Time Machine
take me back to somewhere in the far away past, somewhere before the monsters came lurking in through the looking glass that shattered ‘neath the weight of so many eyes that bullied me into the blind corners of a darkness unrelenting, held captive in the watchful glares of their haunting hatred, where all I ever saw was…
New Poem ~ August 17th 2015
Darkness and Dirty Diners and the Midnight Host Serving Up Death as the Poetry Weeps Into Its Day Old Coffee, Cold as a Corpse These dense and hollow bones and bland flesh that you’ve gifted me are as empty as the silence within words without teeth, and limp as the thin blue veins sucked…
