Jabberwocky
I was but a beamish boy Newly minted in the meadow sifting through my chattels Anointing trading cards and trinkets Salvation, at the crack of each box lid Whispering is a house a home now Portrait of a revelry choked in the gossamer web of a waking noontide day-mare The brown recluse legs splayed open palm-wide Tethering dread to my loves, like ley lines I shrank Soaked in her wet ocelli gaze, it took me out of my room Trying to shake the sight, it took the rest of my bloom Hiding to be unseen like the night, though times made a ghost of me She's still out there watching me Is a house a home now? Is a house home?
Submitted by Pestilence — Feb 21, 2026
Deer Gods Acre sleeps On a borogoves wingspan Between dusk-fall and daybreak Lulled by and by to the sound Of a grindstone operachi William the cutler plys his trade Soaked in spirits Sparking vorpal into blades The tableau stags sway Kissing life from verdant graze Upright in unrepressed repose Deer Gods Acre stirs On a borogoves wingspan Between daybreak and dusk fall The beamish boys are away And the meadow yawns awake William the stalker plys his trade Soaked in spirits Bolt and bow to slay the day The tableau stags swing Like a ruminant dirge Caverns cast in crimson gleaming gore Upended antlers hang in effigy And the morning Has gold in its mouth
Submitted by Pestilence — Feb 21, 2026
Sons and daughters of the meadow, a tree line clandestine Ritual of play casting seasons into years Our eyes narrow to the fluttering sky A colony nocturnal The witching hour in flight I was slight at twelve When the notion dawned Those aren't birds, harrying the dusk A cauldron of red eyes flit Boiling over in pairs Bloodshot Blood-love Bloodlust Tattering clouds burst On pointed wings Envoys of the equinox Ribboning through slithy With malice This is blood-love This is bloodlust This is bat country
Submitted by Pestilence — Feb 21, 2026
The recluse led a deathless day Escorted past like a chained killer Lurking legs left to the meadow Still out there to this very day The stags left life on display A split rib hung installation William left life on his back Mad as a hatter, solus as god Demeter spilled from the cauldron Careening down our chimney throat Chiroptera cradling the curtain mail Soot-clad, sleep the sun away Oh dearest daymares Figments, phantoms, 1, 2, and through My heart was your haunting ground Now Dauntless it sounds out loud Kindly conjure yourselves Sincerely yours A once beamish boy
Submitted by Pestilence — Feb 21, 2026