I am always on the edge.
On the edge of a breakthrough.
On the edge of creativity.
On the edge of a breakdown.
On the edge of change.
On the edge of fear.
On the edge of anger.
On the edge of happiness.
On the edge of exhaustion.
On the edge of freedom.
On the edge of release.
But I am never really there.
I am hanging in a state of suspension,
Stuck between two worlds.
About the Creator
Alyssa Nicole
A toxicologist who secretly hopes to be a full-time author. One novel in progress with too many other ideas taking up space in my head until I get around to writing them. Some of those ideas end up here.
Instagram: @alyssa.n.mussowrites
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At the Sheltering Doors
The doors, they always scrambled for the doors first. When they arrive and always by night it was a race to desperately bar the creatures entry to the house in the slow crawl of numb feet that the dream would impose upon him. He never seemed fast enough and the creatures uninhibited by the same constraints always made the doors first. The houses in his dream-scapes vary night to night - Some are mansions, others shacks and some are distorted contortions of his childhood home which burned down when he was ten. But the doors are always the same – frail, loose hinged and never could be fully shut. The creatures too vary – twisted and corrupted forms of animals and people familiar to him: family dogs preternaturally swollen to twice their size with rotting coats of mange and slicked damp with dark liquids of decay. The people too were bloated vestiges of ones vaguely familiar to him but whose names escape him. Their eyes gorged wide with dark blood which streaked their mottled faces in crusted trails like lost rivers which hung from their chins swinging in ropy columns beneath paling yellowed teeth. To let them break through would mean death. This he knew with grave certainty. At the door was desperation and panic as their stench emanated forth, sickly and pungent like vomit and mold and ending in a gruesome exhalation like cancer, the stench sticky and clinging invading his nostrils and lungs never to be expunged. Then in the sudden waking he never knew if he repelled them or not.
By Kevin Rolly3 days ago in Horror
Comments (4)
My oh my Alyssa, wanted to say saw your comment on my Advocate piece, not had a chance to reply to them all and not began the mammoth task of reading them all lol as had a few things happen offline - Uncle passed away. But, wanted to make sure I was subscribed and decided to check out something short while having some tea. This poem defines how I have felt so many times in life. Always teetering on the edge of...good, bad, though often good stuff...but never...really there. I often end up face first in the bad (funny how that works, eh?) anyway...loved the simplicity of the form and the way you tied it all neatly with an impactful and powerful bow at the end. Can't wait to dive into your offerings for my challenge! loved this!
I feel like you’ve perfectly encapsulated my lived experiences. Loved this, so good
Powerful work!! So emotional and strongly worded!
Oh my God Alyssa, it's like you stole the words from my heart right now. I love love love this. So relatable!