Tag Archives: horror

Catch Fire


ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏ ᴠɪᴄᴛɪᴍ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀ ᴄᴇᴍᴇᴛᴇʀʏ
ʀᴏᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴀᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʀɪᴠɪʟᴇɢᴇ
ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ ᴀʟʟ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ‘ᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ
ɪ’ᴍ ᴀ sᴡɪᴛᴄʜʙʟᴀᴅᴇ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇᴀᴅʟɪɴᴇs
ᴀᴡᴀɪᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴡᴇ ᴅʀɪᴠᴇ ᴀ sᴘɪᴋᴇ
ᴀ sᴘɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴇᴀʀ ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴇʀɴᴜᴍ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜʀ ғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ…


bodies burn like the sunrise aftermath of the destruction

your lies caused—fractured spines ripped apart and counted

with the notches in their fingers, just a sinner’s aggravation

blindly feeding the grand delusion of pure freedom into

the prison cells rusted with blatant injustice, as you plead

for your worthless life and try to prove you’re not a stigma

you have holes under your palms and feet but you can’t

convince the world that you’re the second coming of christ

he’s fucking dead like your family, like you, like the stability

you once had before you hacked away at it with a blunt axe

from your locked toolshed—you left them all for dead, did

you leave even just one splintered breath? a single dose

of comatose or even close would have been enough for

a plea conviction, but every degree was coldly violated

you’re too violent! send the sordid sentence for electrocution

right away tonight, families will sleep a little safer and the

streets spilled with less vomit and spit, the constables

rejoice in favour of another bigger shrimp to fry—did you

even say goodbye? when the glow from their dwindling vision

flickered into the end of the tunnel that you’re chasing, how did

the liquid rose taste when you splattered the shattered mirror

trying to get it off your hands, did you really think it would stay

there forever like the devil on your shoulder? digging in deeper and

deeper, that’s why you smile so crookedly, and the steel manacles

aren’t helping with your shambling gait, either. now, look at the iron

witnesses and the tear-stained grievers and the burly man by the switch

whose teeth is a nasty shade of nicotine brown, like your last meal that

has been as bland as the bible verses of bullshit being spewed by the pastor

holy water nearly drowns you but it can’t drown out all the crying, the

blindfold’s suffocating but the disillusions inside your mind are ever

spinning, chew the rubber wedged between your mouth in agitation

don’t let them smell the fear, don’t let them know you’re here, don’t—

enough with the drama. enough is enough. enough will be the end.

and if anyone dares to ask you now, tell them just one more stunning lie,

“i don’t fucking deserve this.” famous last words, the very tail end

interrupted by one sickening jolt as the entire world lights up for your crimes

and the body of a monster finally burns away into the final sunset’s demise.


ᴄᴜʀʙ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴜʀᴇ
ɢʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍs
ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜ ᴍᴇ
ᴛᴏ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜ ᴍᴇ ʙʟᴇᴇᴅ?


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Filed under Poetry

Sweetest Intimacy

Would you let me

Place my tender hands

On your warm chest

So I could cut you open

With a blunt scalpel

And let my fingers flow

Against your insides

That slippery sensation

Of panicking blood

Against this living flesh

Crushing the oxygen

Tracing lines around your

Lungs like star signs

Of a sky trapped behind

An ivory cage—spare

Me a rib or a vein or two

As my hands shall be

Exploring you way further

Find organs to suture

Or prod you into laughter

Are you ticklish here?

On your stomach, in your

Punctured diaphragm

No need to ask if you have

Got the guts, but don’t

Be heartless, I’ll miss your

Larynx for that chuckle

All before I stain your neck

With the red of your

Slowing aorta, and set you

Free with a final gasp

And just one gentle little snap.

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Filed under Poetry

Elizabeth and the Zealot

His embittered smile proclaims of an innocently senile man, but his rancid breath reeks of irreparable psychological damage.

Outside, a group of children playing tag in the playground across the street, clambering across loose gravel and joyously shrieking as outstretched hands willingly grab for their shoulders, caught unaware and simply caught.

Inside his shirt, the old crucifix his long-deceased mother gave him on the brink of her deathbed, clasp half-broken and several priceless encrusted jewels missing; a toothless grin, unfaithful gaps. The tiny metal weighs heavily against his unwashed chest, the unpleasant sensation almost burning a hole through his heart. Sometimes, he mutters a memorised creed out of reflex, though no one believes in it anymore. Perhaps not even God Himself. But him?

Mindless gazes. The chipped, mouldy statue of a weeping wooden saint in one dark nook of the living room, rotting food and dusty candles its ever-resilient offering. The mirror, barely reflective, smudged with soot and cobwebs and his tuberculosis-infected saliva. The closed window beside him like a sleepy eye, tiringly wary as it occasionally betrays a resounding laugh or a glimpse of excitedly-billowing hair. He forgets so many things nowadays, but he always remembers. The children. He must watch the children.

Or else?

Or else…

Grabbing his ragged coat from the settee, the man coughed into his fist once, twice, and absently wiped the offending knuckle onto his beige pants. He headed for the door and resolutely grabbed the tarnished doorknob with a shaky hand. The hinges squeaked. A child, perhaps the acting leader of the pack, called out for everyone’s attention as he insisted to play hide and seek.

A countdown, and the palpable air of small bodies scattering. The man decided musingly, that he would humour them and join in their little pastime. He’s always been good at hiding. Though, he sighed out in quiet lamentation, with his old age and raging rheumatism, it would not really make the job any easier for him.

But only one child would win the game that night.

No one would ever find her.

He’ll make sure of that.

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Filed under Prose

Not Your Monster

I am not your monster

I’m not the flesh you wish to rend

With your bared fangs

Clawing the sides of my shoulders

As if making me bleed

Profusely would be your salvation

.

I am not your monster

Hidden underneath the floorboards

But you have a shovel

And a knife, and the dirt you dug up

Was crammed into my

Mouth, burying all the words I spoke

.

I am not your monster

Stitched up and painted to look alive

A bride without a heart

Shambling down the aisle in despair

Veil masking the frowns

Picking thorns out of my open palms

.

I am not your monster

A lullaby you use to terrify children

Threatening retribution

From such a wicked, deformed being

Still human; though just

Not enough to invoke empathic pity

.

I am not your monster

The madness you created for yourself

Scars warn to “stay away”

An urban legend for the rest of society

No, I am not your monster

But I fear you might be becoming mine.

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Filed under Poetry

voyeurism

conceal the past

wipe your filthy mouth

but your bridal dress

is quite sleeveless

and there’s too much

blood to staunch now—

now am i your perfect

silent witness?

.

the curtain protesting

against my hunched

body, you thought it was

just the midnight wind

billowing, but it was the

breaths i failed to hold

shallowly enraged and

almost fucking deranged

.

as the unspeakable acts are

fed to me live right before

my eyes, i want to throw up

i want to stain my melting mind

with a heavy dose of ammonia

and scream to god, and scream

to stop, let my oxygen burst into

flames from immense friction

.

disgusted beyond rationality

i can’t look away, my skin shudders

as i seem to hear yours being viciously

torn apart with a sickening rip and

a sickening crunch and a sickening

laugh—but why was it yours, shit

why the fuck was it yours?! eerie calm

ensues but i’m afraid to come out

.

from my flimsy hiding place—all before the lights

turn off and a shadow shifts in front of me…

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Filed under Poetry

Locked-In

Tell me, did your throat close up

When fingers wrapped around it like

Marionette strings, spindly and ready

To be pulled and consumed, or did

You get a final chance to scream?

.

Did your dear friends pick up your call

Or did your neighbours come a-knocking

When you showed up with purple bruises

On the underside of your crooked blank stare

Or your the therapist dismiss it as insomnia?

.

When the comatose finally began, and your

Rigid flesh contracted as if doused with ice

Water, as you didn’t even take a hot second

To shiver and whimper, dreaded rigor mortis

Taking over, did you try to wake yourself up?

.

Tell me, were your glassy eyes still open

When they stuffed you in that metal box

And the starving flames licked at your body

God’s merciful wrath your only sanctity, or

Were you lucky enough to blink just one last time?

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Filed under Poetry

The Cadaver’s Requiem

the abyss is your wornout teeth

creaking and gnashing at four in

the morning—deathly eves whisper

in alluringly sweeter nevermores

as your mind draws a point blank

chalky and arid, the rewind is set to

fit the blame and delirium quite sure...

lights dragging the diabolical taste

of cancer and firelight away to hell

as it burns for the hearts of infidels

though carry not the cursed hurt nor

wretched inferno that only means to

submerge its sharp, bleeding claws

deep down into your tender sternum

to slowly pick your entrails apart as it

would a grand and delectable banquet;

cerise mucilage trickles in between the

crook of your damned eternal frown,

moulding your seething madness into

a scream of inscrutable evisceration.

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Filed under Poetry

Slaughterhouse Lust

Oh, how I crave to dare and distort

Flesh and curled veins embellish the hurt

Fingernails, friction, furled fire and ice

Horrors entombing, a mouthful of lies

.

Teethmarks left stale on shredded skin

A scarlet line stitch for scarlet-lured sins

Glinting dangerously close to livid steel tip

A throat once so sweet, now no longer sings

.

I am the intruder to your rationality

A romance without leisure nor apricity

I am ambrosia for the cunning and vulgar

Lock me in an embrace, I am built of barbed wires

.

You are the impostor with augmented pleas

Lethargic limerence, sometimes innocence kills

Fabricated humiliation left to the blowflies

Your hubris your downfall, your last breath a sigh

.

So crash and collide, a staccato of apologies

Left with the bullets, fired gunshot of notoriety

Puncture my lungs and just leave me to gasp

Amputate my useless limbs as you did to my useless heart

.

Oh, how I crave to deceive and disgrace

The enamel of my bones, your final resting place

You dine with the serpents, you rest with the wolves

Desecration was our only means to disguise the corrupted truth.

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Filed under Poetry

I’ve Got All This Blood On My Hands (And None In My Body)

Stay out of the light or the photograph that I gave you
You can say a prayer if you need to
Or just get in line and I’ll grieve you
Can I meet you, alone, another night and I’ll see you
Another night and I’ll be you
Some other way to continue, to hide my face…

~*~

I wanna turn your insides to white (say it ain’t so)

So it looks good on my bedroom walls (black, blonde, red)

My heart’s been bleached by the tidal waves (so wash me out)

I wonder if it had any colour at all (maybe not)

.

(So they say that the switchblade is better than the sense)

Well then, let’s see how you look in basketcase drag

(So they say that all this praying won’t make you a saint)

Well then, let’s see how you look when it goes bad

.

It’s not profound or romantic (it’s a mechanical interlude)

And I’m tired of (waiting for) all the infinite eulogies

(And they all put words in my mouth that) make me feel sick

Babe, I just wanted to sever a vein (but you made it plural)

.

(The incineration of another night, the gunshots rang clear

The townspeople screamed as a body fell out of a windowsill

Sirens wailed and ambulances crashed to the beat of my heart

Screaming “fucking save me!”, but it was all a nightmare thrill)

.

‘Cause Magdalene’s desecrated (and her scripture womb) now ain’t sacred

‘Cause all your best friends will only get together when somebody starts to die

‘Cause you can have your fucking funeral but still end up running late for it

(‘Cause you might) say grace all you want and still throw up (pure lies)

.

(Say it ain’t so) I wanna turn your insides inside out

(Black, blonde, red) And end up drunk on your bedroom walls

(So wash me out) My heart’s been drowned off by the tidal waves

(Maybe not) I wonder if it meant anything to you at all.

~*~

And we’ll all dance alone to the tune of your death
We’ll love again, we’ll laugh again
And it’s better off this way
And never again, and never again
They gave us two shots to the back of the head
And we’re all dead now…

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Filed under Poetry

Occhiata

Rarer still, the crest of tides

The phantom women dance and bide

Where laughter speaks in ocean waves

And cold mindless solitary graves

Midnight shadows fended and staved

.

Quieter still, the fall of tides

The phantom women sleep and hide

Where sorrow cries in ocean waves

And moonlit fields of dreamless naves

Midnight shadows that can’t be saved.

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Filed under Poetry