Picture of someone holding a gaming console.

Horror Game Ambience

Sometimes I muck around a bit,
sad tosser I am, with 1990s graphics
from Silent Hill, using the theme for a fix.

I had a dream once that between five hours
of sleep and wake, I was by the side
of an immense pool. It was misty, sick
in a way already dead that was comfortable.
For example, I went to the pub (Irish, naval)
and encountered fifty to sixty half-ghouls
who were fully undead by the time I left.
It was that easy. Flee at the right time

and you will enter a delirious lordly room
with an inappropriately large bed in the middle:
the demon lord of the manor’s, or an archon’s
pre-fallen crèche delivered to it by YHWH.
I couldn’t tell. I just made my way through
the five hundred metre corridor of chess floor
into a corpse haunted sky about a castle.

Not much is left that remains in memory.
I saw heads and lightning bolts, green bright teeth,
a man and a cassowary. But, at the end of the thing,
it was obvious that something was amiss.
I dearly wanted, when I arose, I guess,
to be a horror game protagonist –fog, grief, and all,

even Pyramid Head – because that would give,
that would let, some foreign part of living
into the world, a world of death.

Image credit: lalesh aldarwish via Pexels