Well I realised it had been a while since I uploaded anything on this blog. Well I wrote a few poems back in October and decide now would be a good time to share them. I have to warn that some have MATURE CONTENT and its safe to say I was in full swing of the Halloween spirit. Enjoy 😉 :
The Cleaner’s Ad
Twenty-four hours and seven days a week,
I am a phone call away,
To get rid of your unwanted meat.
My equipment is top notch, and I assure
It will be carved to perfection to fit in the bags.
Disposed effectively, however way you please.
My confidential services,
Are of course discreetly praised.
Amongst all of my clients and
Charge varies on weight and, body count.
Don’t be shy,
I’ll take care of everything.
You are most beautiful,
And now your body is cold,
Finally eyes are black, dull,
Shrivelled with decay weeks old.
I touch with baited breath,
Fingering the slimy skin,
Lips tainted with death,
How I do love lifes fin.
Together in the night,
I can make love to you,
barely out of God’s sight,
indulging in taboo.
They say death do us part,
But thats when the fun starts.
I come here now.
To find you,
maybe even myself.
The attic as you know,
Is the most godforsaken room,
In my entire home.
Ouija boards, curses and spirit games,
Fill this empty space,
Childhood terrors in this place.
Yet I reminisce and revel,
those memories sweet and bright,
to explore a world out of sight.
So even with the tug of hair.
Scratch of skin from those near,
I will still continue to come here.
So I do love the attic,
but I think I will be afraid,
of the dark, forever.
We have come to terms with it.
There was no escape from this fate,
We had grown fond of each other,
in our short time together.
Three days we have been stuck down here.
Our tongues had swelled and
it was hard to breathe,
ribs piercing through paper skin.
The suggestion spoken by him killed,
the humanity that was left in us
but we both agreed to it.
With the flip of change,
one would be given an end,
while the other would get relief.
When it came up heads,
it might have been a blessing or a curse,
whatever it was it gave me bitter hope.
With the last of my strength,
I got a rock as black as death,
like a reaper I brought it on his head.
With his face nothing but mush,
though tears streamed down my face.
He was food now.
The flesh torn from his bones,
was raw and bloody.
The chunks slipped down like butter.
I choke and gag,
quenching my thirst.
filling a hole.
I realised when I was sick and full,
that no longer was I living,
being completely filled with a dead man.