The night holds no surprises
for the darkness-embracers,
the captains of ships of fools.
They cast away light
as they seek to find themselves
in the mangled branches
of a fig tree
as it envelops them.
They find holes in the bark
and dare to reach inside,
fearless of the serrated teeth
they hope to find within.

The trees devour them.

Their dead hands reach for dirt,
clawing themselves from the roots.
They scream from stitched mouths,
muffled and agonising.
Rigor mortis of the eyelids

seeing you for what you are.

I can feel your hand creep into mine.
Your grip is tight
and palms sweaty,
a shaky embrace,
fear rising in goosebumps
or is it the cold?,
or the fear of growing old
that terrifies you so.

I am here for you,

treading wearily
into the gaping maw
of a

very dark place.
Serious potential here to be a favorite, but a few things irk me.

There's a huge shift in the image here as you jump from ships, to reaching in trees, to reaching to the ground, to reaching for your hand, and so on. Unless you're specifically going for the idea of being outstretched towards different things in the darkness and indecision, I'd get a more defined setting for who you're writing towards.

The other bit is the spacing. I feel like isolating one line so hard is kind of a cheap way to bring impact to a line. It can work in some ways, but in most, it comes of kind of cheesy. I'd cut all the white space there, keep this piece denser and heavier.