SHORT STORIES OF FEAR; SLICED

 

A short poem of fear

A haunting is happening in this house that holds me,
a sinister spirit that lies in the shadows,
a feeling of fear is feeding on 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 flits by my face,
a mischievous menace that will not let me be,
I fear the already dead splitting time and space.

A demon is devising a death to destroy me,
his clutch a cold and callous caress,
while no face nor fingers nor form can I see
there’s dread in this dark I cannot suppress.

A sour scent stains the sheets where I slumber
reeking of rank and rotten revulsions,
it exhales a heinous, horrible, hunger
of demonic desires and 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;
but the grind to be 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 to be sliced in the shadows.

 

All words and photographs by Dmien B Donnelly

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