In the black night of my soul, they beckon me, possess me,
They call my name; they scratch my skin with talons and claws of fire,
Itching, tearing, burning,
They pervade my mind with fears unknown – yet terror, doom, despair, and guilt,
Memories – of a life before – now long lost,
Replaced by my Demons,
Who call my name.
I awake and they still beckon,
With thunder-beats my heart runs fast, for this is not a bad dream,
I know my fears are real, I am damned, forever caught in my hell,
As a river, my sweat pours, drowning me and engulfing the night,
And still, they call my name.
For how long shall the torment and terror be here?
For my Demons inside, to be still and give me rest?
I know not, it is still dark, still silent,
And the dark knows my secrets, my life, and my soul,
The dark, who calls me by name.
The dark slowly fades; dawn awakens, redemption comes near,
The torments do fade; my mind waits: for release from bondage and fear,
I will now rest, soon,
My sweet, dark lady beckons, a smile on her face,
And I call her name.
I drink of my dark lady, it has to be done, and soon,
My terrors, fears, all feeling driven away and banished,
My dark lady, once more my friend, my lover, and my enemy,
She gives me my rest, wings me to oblivion…
…Until the dark reappears,
And they call me by name.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
This poem has been personal for many years, the fact I have now been sober for 12 years, I feel it is time to release that part of me to the world.
Jack Wolfe Frost is the Eternal Rebel; he rebels against everything which may have the word “rules” or “behave” within it, whether explicit or implicit. Born in Sheffield, UK, in 1956; he first started writing in 1982, as a hobby--dreaming that perhaps one day he might try and publish something. In his working life, he has enjoyed success in many diverse areas, including running his own company twice. Now older and wiser, he has once again taken pen to paper--looking for conformity to smash and rules to break…