SCREECH: A Horror Poetry Collection

What I See from the Shadows

I play the game of agony

absorbing emotional gore.

Their cerebral sputum I masticate,

and burn to fuel my core.

The girl who screamed abominations,

"I don't believe in this monstrous place!"

She spat - specks illuminated brilliantly

among the dust of human flakes.

The elder's slap clapped loudly,

the girl a dissolution of tears.

"You must atone by ritual."

Her molded mind now plagued by fear.

Or the man who gripped one's pleated skirt,

deadness behind his cerulean irises.

Her: lifeless skin paling in shines of moon.

Him: fingers clenching mechanically 'neath the cypress.

Last, young fierce love, fractured by lust,

a spiteful bubbling stew.

A shattered frame, transparent shears,

crunched bitterly beneath her shoe.

The sharpest shard pushed in her palm,

a horrific scarlet hug.

Deep drips - completed dot-to-dot -

trickle to his crumpled face on the rug.

So whence you see a deep black vapor

infiltrating the evening air,

don't hush those thoughts and click those locks.

Isn't there something you'd like to share?