The "Where Poison Apples Grow" EP
This is where poison apples grow Where poison apples grow A place you shouldn't go The witches cauldron brews Orchard of whispered sorrow Where songbirds choke on muted cries Roots twist in knots of venom Beneath spiteful boughs where malice thrives A witch’s sigh threadbare with dread Weaves shadows through cursed canopies Tending to rotten orchards The harbinger of agony Fruit of ever sleep a skull of peel appears once ripe Irresistibly crispy flеsh poisoned every bitе Juice drips down your chin the heaviness of sleep is in your eyes Tonight you’ll lay your head to rest tomorrow you won't rise Where poison apples grow A place you shouldn't go The witches cauldron brews
Submitted by VladTheImpaler666 — Jul 08, 2026
A shadowy form A hat wider than most The blackest of coats The darkest of cloaks The reddest of eyes Stare at you lying In bed paralyzed Sleep Terrorized Under your covers there's nowhere to hide Footsteps approaching you pray for your life You pull down the covers expecting to see the worst ghost of your dreams There's no one in sight How would you feel if your nightmares were alive? There's nowhere to hide once you've seen those red eyes How would you feel if the hat man visited you tonight? True ghost of the darkness lives in your mind If you see the man black coat and wide hat The reddest of eyes the tall silhouette You could try to lock your doors or call the police But nothing will stop him from watching you sleep Nothing will stop him from watching you sleep Nothing will stop him from watching you sleep
Submitted by VladTheImpaler666 — Jul 08, 2026
She forages apples off resting loam Shaped into children she can call her own She whispers to them as she works A prick of the knife less than solitude hurts Half rotten apples roll at her feet Fragments of faces she has never seen Hoping for voices in an empty house Little dolls dry about two or three ounce Carving mouths that cannot speak and eyes that cannot cry A shriveled lonely heart mimics fruit immensely dry She paints their faces with blackenеd soot and a rain of saddened tears To cast alivе her children dear she's yearned for countless years No one sees her except the moon Empty cradles in an empty room Wilted fruit will never love A Wilted heart can never love She whispers to them as she works Soft sweet nothings to ease her hurt She knows they will never move She sees her child's face in rotting fruit Carving ears that cannot hear and eyes that cannot cry A shriveled lonely heart mimics fruit immensely dry She Whispers bedtime nursery rhymes to dolls perched on a shelf Kiss goodnight her children whom she couldn't bear herself How cruel is the craft of the empty soul? In bluest light of early morn The dolls return to roots Their tiny bodies cradled by earth Their heads of rotting fruit She sits in her chair stitching more Her grief a mountain of stone One stitch for every quiet night The witch has been alone
Submitted by VladTheImpaler666 — Jul 08, 2026
The tears of the crying wolf will fill up every creek Wailing grief falls on deaf ears heard only by the moss and reeds Every pine needle is a dagger of evergreen dolor Howled hymns resound through valleys cold echoes of folklore Why is the moon my master? When will my soul be set free? Shackled to the forest floor My prison cell of trees Le-le-let's fucking go The call of the shrieking wolf impregnates every tree Every lеaf a tale of sorrow where darknеss spreads its seed The moon acts as the midwife, delivers the woe of wolf Placed in cradles of cold shant feel a mothers warmth
Submitted by VladTheImpaler666 — Jul 08, 2026