This is where I was born.
Cold stone and metal were my womb.
Electricity was my mother, and my Father isn’t one.
I travel this world tormented and alone;
searching for answers I’ll never get,
and companionship I’ll never have.
I yearn for understanding and peace,
but I’ve only ever known fear and pain.
Am I being punished for the sins
that belonged to the men that I used to be?
I long for the day when I can put an end to that monster of a man,
the one who bestowed my hideous being with life.
I feel as though I have existed for an eternity.
I fear I may never make sense of who or what I am.
I search in vain for my creator,
and for Death,
and I am terrified that I may never find either.
Tag: horror
Skull and Bones [10-6-17]
The roe buck was dead.
The snow mounded around his lifeless body half concealing him.
His antlers grew out from his sad head,
an echo of his power and strength in life.
His legs lay out at awkward angles,
white tongue lolling from the side of his mouth,
out from between his flat teeth and lips stretched thin and pale.
He had fallen into death some time ago;
his fur falling from the hide in piles around him,
unto the ground and the snow.
Rough naked patches of flesh spotting his body,
the skin ripped and shredded open along the spine and ribs.
The remnants of coyotes feasting upon the carcass for their dinner.
The bones still had meat clinging to them in places,
and the rotting sac of organs beneath the rib cage exuding no smell,
frozen in the mid Winter chill.
It seemed that all he was,
everything that made him a deer,
was slowly falling away into the snow.
The only remaining legacy of life; his empty black eyes.
And in the Spring,
all that would remain would be his bare bones
scattered across the ground.
Huntress [10.4.19]
It has been centuries.
While I have found pleasure in the work,
and have gained much skill through time,
I no longer get the satisfaction.
With every kill I make it gets easier and less fulfilling.
I am always searching for that perfect prey to give me what I want,
more than the things I need.
Eons pass and men fall before me.
Hopelessly bound by my love.
Rendered paralyzed by my gaze.
Wrestling internally with themselves to figure out if
I am real or only a dream.
If I am a goddess or a daemon.
Their blood is my life,
their love feeds my soul,
but they never last long;
can’t hold up against the intensity of my existence.
They worship and bend and beg for my love,
and eventually they withdrawal or attack or run.
And that’s when they are ended like so many before them,
and I begin the hunt anew, in search of another.
I grow tired, and wiser, and stronger,
but they never seem to change.
Mortal men are weak,
bound only to themselves and not built for eternity.
I eat their hearts and collect their souls.
Use their bones to build my armor
and that’s all they’re ever good for.
Their names drip like spells from my tongue,
and after centuries it seems my magic still isn’t strong enough
to find a thing I cannot eventually destroy.
Witch/Poisonous [10.1.18]
There are wolf spiders in my room,
and buzzards are constantly overhead.
The crows see me and signal warning,
and the cats always come crawling.
I burn herbs to ward off
the scent of loneliness.
I light candles to scare away
the darkness.
Autumn is here,
and everything is preparing to sleep.
I wear black to blend in with the night,
so my dreams can’t find me.
The moon is full
and my heart is empty.
These mushrooms are poisonous,
and I grow more hungry everyday.
Everything else is already ready,
for me to take a bite.
Abandoned Building [4.17.09]
I waited,
in the dark;
like a spider yearning for a fly.
and I swore I seen you there;
standing in the place where the streetlamps shone through the broken windows
and stretched out in diamonds across the floor.
Running Away [9.26.19]
Everything I’ve ever loved has died,
or caught fire,
or both.
I cannot seem to keep things, or people;
always disappearing,
or being destroyed,
or running away.
I want love and only give destruction.
I want a good life yet have only been dealt in ruins.
My history;
a series of inverse cards on a table,
the taste of ashes in my mouth,
and the feel of blood in the hands.
Pain can always be found hidden within the pleasures,
and more oft than not,
I get great pleasure from the pain.
Some days I rule in Hell,
and some days I serve in Heaven,
but in neither duty am I ever completely satisfied.
AEL Library & Archives 