SLICED

 

A haunting is happening in this house that holds me
A sinister spirit that sighs in the shadows
A feeling of fear is feeding on a frenzy
As it ghoulishly groans and gasps from its gallows

A breath is baying by this bed that now binds me
With its fetid foulness that’s flitting by my face
A mischievous menace that will not let me be
The already dead trudging through time and space

A demon’s devising a death to destroy me
As he cloths me in his cold and callous caress
While neither face nor fingers nor form can I see
But there’s dread in the dark that I cannot suppress

A sour scent is staining the sheets where I slumber
And it’s reeking of rank and rotten revulsions
It exhales a heinous, a horrible, hunger
Its demonic desires and its cursed compulsions

A miserable monster while mumbling madness
Is slapping and sliding something sharp on my skin
Between life and death there’s not much to divide us
The guidance to good and the seduction of sin

A haunting is happening in this house that holds me
A sinister spirit groaning from its gallows
A face is now forming and two eyes can I see
As I’m dragged into darkness, sliced neath the shadows.

 

Published by deuxiemepeau

Published poet, writer, baker and former fashion maker, with footprints in Paris, London and Amsterdam but currently back home in Dublin with sights aimed at leaving a mark on the West coast one clear fine day...

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