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A Poem I Wrote Called "Jungle".

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I walked into the jungle in the middle of the night,

my deepest fears reflected in the niveous moonlight.

A thousand unseen eyes did rip the skin straight from my back

as I walked into the jungle on a bloodied, beaten path.


The earth, it moved beneath me, like a carpet made of ants

as hanging emerald skeletons usurped the forlorn plants.

The greenest shades of black swallowed the blackest shades of green

as when the fingers of the nightmare choke the last breath of the dream.


A creeper coiling at my wrist to lead me deeper still

looked like a silent haunted victim looking for some guts to spill,

but the only voice I heard was of a ghostly gasping wight

who had walked into the jungle in the middle of the night.


A ghoul that had such providence to keep me marching on

had no worldly incarnation for my eyes to rest upon.

A spook with lipless smiles and a whirlwind in its lung

drew me closer to the darkness with the soundless song it sung.


A beast that waited in the shadows made its fierce attack.

It eagerly divided me as I lay there on my back.

I let my body bleed and thought while all around me blurred,

that my fears are of humanity and are fostered by the herd.


I walked into the jungle in the middle of the night.

I walked for such a long time that the night became my life

and as I reached the heart of darkness that engulfed all that I see,

I realised it was the jungle that had walked right into me.

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