HORROR Poem: Lurking Under the Blood Sky, by Matthew Peel

Preferring a pitch black, I crawl
And slither alongside walls
And stride out of sight
I cannot control these urges
I wither my human self
I gain understanding of
The finer instincts called “mad”
Once a predator, always a hunter
Once a prey, always hunted
Lurking in a violent purgatory
Underneath a blood sky
Finer details, finer scent
Finer appropriation for the
Veins in the neck, for the kill
The thrill, the sickness and Hell
The mind in chaotic fringe,
I slash and there are no screams
And I have accomplished my dreams
The fantasy to keep me alive and thrive
Within my hole, a thief awaiting a noose
The loose cannon firing off wildly
Inside, I prefer to give in to the urges
I hide my bloody hands in throes
Of wild flowers and mannequin parts
Pornographic images and videos,
The sexual depravity I have craved
Beaten off, empty human cavity
And residing in regret
I succumb to all these ideas
And I cannot control the urges
I take no joy in quickness
And find comfort in the prolonged
Events of limitation obliteration
When done,
I stride out of
Sight
“Mad”
The idea
The ruination
The taste
The urge
Frayed ends of synaptic calibration cut
Like wilting daggers severing the strings
To my last puppet of humanity
Slithering in and out of remembrance
Once a predator, eventually a prey.

Author: poetryfest

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