Darkest Poem

Eyelids barely awaken as the body tries to move.  
It can't. It can't move. It can't move at all.
Pinned by a force only visible to the sleepers' eye.  
Mommy now enters the room.
She thinks that you are still sleeping.
She doesn't see who's choking you.  
Screaming through stapled lips.
HM!
Mommy can't hear you.
HHMM!
No one can.  
HHHMMM!
Cheeks covered in kisses.
HHHMMM!
Goodnight child.
HHHHHHHMMMMMM!
The battle is lost. You cannot breathe.
The beast has taken your hope and filled it with loss.
You shut your eyes and the last thing you see is him smiling.

Sunlight gets tangled in the shadows and is swiftly consumed by starlight and thought finds a playground to ravage one's heart.

Insecurities stab deep as demons from yesterdark try to live in the tonight leaving one shaking and cold.

Mind flirts with buying wares offered , disoriented by past pain and deception.

I pray for morning to quickly come and to make clear the things which I "know" to be sure.

Sometimes I hate the night.

Fierce gusts of icy sleet sheared their faces.
Behind them, deep red footprints in the snow.

A grey man carried a body, hollow of air, she was dusted in cherry flakes of snow.
A glacial tear had wandered down her stiff cheek from a moon that was once her starry eye.

Into the snowy fray these hollowed red footpaths meander on,
into his wintry, black mind no one followed.

Beyond the black, wicked spikes of leafless trees,
into the evening blue, his soulless spirit danced.

He took her frozen hand and she held on tight.
He looked at her and she had a smile frozen in time.

He didn’t want to let go just then, her departed smile guided him still.
They entered the thickly wood, trotting and smiling.

He swore she kept looking at him with shut eyes,
So, he lifted her to his grey face and kissed her icy lips.

“I wished she'd kiss” whispered the grey man.
“Your tears have frozen like glaciers” he added.
 
“I’ll chip the still stream you’ve bled away.”
“I’ll tend to the cuts your sharp, glacial tears have carved.”

She hadn’t bled since the descending winter sun was impaled by the wicked, lifeless tree branches,
He petted her cheek with his coarse palms.
      
He swore felt her warm breath on his neck
as he carried her through the dismal wood.

“You don’t have to say anything” he said.
“I know you wanted me to kiss you.”

He pressed her stiff, plump lips against his neck.
He firmed his grip around her; kissing her.

A shearing gust came. Her hair swayed in the flurries
of the winter-night’s storm.

I once had a dream, so lurid,
So vivid,
So pleasing,
So sad that I was but only dreaming.
So sad that it could never be,
In three parts this dream came to me:
 
 
Part One - The Murder:
 
 
Hark, hear the screams and cries of pain!
Smell the iron of blood, and the scorching of flesh to entertain!
See the fright and the pain!
Feel the shock, as knife hits bone!
Taste the saltiness of tears, and then later, the succulence of cooked flesh, a flavor unknown!
 
 
Part Two - A Celebratory Dinner:
 
Crimson and ruby liquid pours forth from the goblet,
Sitting on a tufted seat of the utmost comfort,
Cuts of pain, slow cooked, and seasoned with sadness,
And drizzled with delicious bitterness.
 
Served with a side of salty asparagus,
On a plate of jaded delph, precious,
Gilded in fine, rage,
Next to a napkin of woven freedom and privilege,
Eaten with a fork teethed in tenacity, belligerence, arrogance, and crassness,
And a knife of vanity, handle, detailed in false niceness.
 
All set upon a table of audacity,
With a cloth of satisfaction draped over the entirety,
By the fireplace of calm eeriness,
In the hall of blissful happiness.
Music, a calm and pleasant tune,
A homage to the riddance of the poor sap, jejune,
Played on the harp strings of sinew,
From the victim, cuckoo.
 
In a room painted mauve,
All situated above,
The acrid basement of entertaining horror, eternity,
With the now empty, bloodied, wall chains of finality.
 
 
Part Three - The Next Day:
 
Skipping down the street smiling,
Little do they know the darkness that I'm hiding,
Giggling at the jokes in my head,
Some of them innocent, and some of them about the bloodshed.
 
My Mary Janes pitter-patter down the sidewalk,
After my life's great epoch,
My moment in the sun, my handiwork,
My moment of truth,
Where I figured out who I was, my eternal oath,
To rid the world of you,
To end once and for all, you.
 
Poor woman, you used your slutty ugliness,
To mask your banality, and obvious lack of fitness.
Just kidding, I didn't and don't pity you,
I only felt murderous rage at you,
And now a happiness no one will ever know was because of you.
 
Hats off to you my dear,
Your divine screams were music to my ears,
Your pleas for me to stop,
Teardrop after teardrop,
Made me squeal with joy and laughter,
At your torture and your slaughter.
 
Dumping your body in a ditch,
Then home, and to the news I switch.
This once, I did renege my pledge to intentionally harm none,
By harming just this one,
It is better for the world,
A world without you, that I thought only fabled.
 
Crocodile tears at your death, I cried,
This was the only time I lied,
And felt no guilt,
From the actions that thrilled!
 
 
And this was the dream I dreamed,
The ennui dreams of the optimistic hearted,
Longing for a better reality,
And just a bit of fun, really.

Your mind is my drug....your words are the needle....you feel my addiction is evil....I lose my self at the sound of your voice I'm a saint by birth and a sinner by choice....your my habit your grip like a vice ....withdrawls make me pay any price....when I feel I must hold you real close ...that voice in my head says don't overdose .....family quick to convict the drug that I choose but can't understand the narcotic I use...self medicate bc I feel used by a world I found ain't real ...she never fought to condem me she talked I listen I chose what to see ....I do the drugs they don't do me....to all addicts who know what I say .... Rehab is for quitters a role that people play..... When u decide to stop that ur time to say ...it is what it is and what it was .a soul. .Steal ..till I make that desicion ....truth makes it real...heroin is her name she has one heart that I know...adding me to her army of hope...a family of legends a science of her ....unaware she'll take u and not share unaware that I'm now her true gazing stare walk away if I choose I'm the only one who can lose it's called personal drug abuse