Darkness rises

Arielle sat in the dark  restaurant alone
The sound of the violin striking a chord in her soul
She had almost lost control and allowed the tears she held back to roll
She looked out the window for what seemed like the hundredth time
Searching the blackness for his form; the only thing in her field of vision, her line of sight-the bright twinkling of the city lights
Her favorite smell-hot buttery sweet rolls-was wafting all around her
But on this night it brought her no comfort
Even the taste of pasta soured in her mouth
She was sick from anxiety, crumbling under the weight of worry
And just when she thought she would surely on that very spot die-
Looking ever do dapper and dashing in his suit and tie-in walked her love, her guy
Kissing her soft and sensually
He dropped down on one knee and uttered the words she had been waiting to hear!
She leaned in close as he whispered in her ear " I shot him, he's dead, he's gone. I killed him just like I said would. He's buried six feet underneath the last lilac bush behind the house. Served him right the rat-the louse. Justice was delivered and served-one less perve. He shouldn't have touched you like that when you were a defenseless little baby girl".

5 senses: city lights,sweet roll,pasta,sensual

The scream of sheer death
it deflates your lungs
and rips out your breath  
it tears apart
the ventricles of your heart
like the demonic sounds
of a fallen angels harp
the evil flame forming faces
howl and burn mental ash traces
that lick your brain with hot pain
which lights up the dark
to show the insane
in their stark underworld  
of plughole down drain .

A soul stealing trident
Satan spiked and hell sent
tri pronged and wrapped  
in a serpent
stands arrow capped  
in an evil dominant
inside are trapped spirits of unrepent
and infinite , expirement
they ache for your
desperate , detriment
and life retirement

So how can you be here
if your not dead yet
a demon leans near and says
this is what you might get
only fear if you gamble
and lose the bet
your soul so dear
shall be speared in an eternal net

The hall of the damned
full of gone murderers that hanged  
now they're hell framed
their pictured in pain
forever tortured  
dead and inane
they cry out contorted,  
faintly my name
as I leave Satans
emporium of reign
I know after this
that I'll play the right game
and never shall I diss
the lords name ever again ,
nor dare never shall I speak it
in vain .

a sedated saturday    
in my room--no tremors    
to remind me i'm alive.    
my pupils dilate. i fall off    
the bed--a cartoon boulder -    
a crazed joker with a medicine    
cabinet full of punch lines.    
     
i wash the walls with chloroform!    
     
breathe deep and    
close my eyes,  
     
i am motionless in white--a    
bright shadow, flickering,    
     
phasing in and out    
of consciousness,    
     
drowning you out    
slower than    
god created earth.

 
I had forgotten      
All of it      
Every bit of it      
        
Now      
Day by day      
Bit by bit      
        
It was coming back        
        
I remembered,  
Her email last October 1st.      
Asking me  - - -      
        
Would I?              
Could I?              
Maybe?              
Join her for a "little" celebration/ceremony on the 31st?              
        
I remembered . . .  
 
The meadow      
Candles      
Blood red wine      
Star shaped white silk cloth spread on the ground      
        
Wine sipping      
Ceremonial stripping      
        
Shivering      
Dizziness      
Caressing      
Erect nipples      
Erect penis      
        
Lighting the candles      
        
Lying down in the pentagram      
Her body splayed to the pentagram's points      
        
Entering her          
        
Thrusting to the strokes of an unseen clock      
        
Those were my memories      
        
Now, on this October 1st      
An email      
Short      
Blunt      
A command      
        
“Be here      
On the 31st”        
        
I write this      
On a plane      
To Austin      
        
It is, of course,      
The 31st      
        
I, quite literally, could not, not be on that plane to Austin      
        
A car pulled up in front of me at Passenger Pick-Up      
Door swing open      
Voice --deeper, richer than I remembered      
"Get in"      
        
She drove in silence  
I stared  
Barely recognized her      
Longer hair, red so dark it was nearly black, hid most of her face      
Breasts, my god, I am certain I would have remembered those      
Pearl white skin that nearly glowed      
Cleavage that showed the edge of her nipples      
Her dress, also a deep, dark, almost black shade of red,      
Flowed and hugged her body as if it were a living layer of skin      
Her arms, covered with lace sleeves down to her fingers      
Her nails, polished that same shade of red/black      
The dress, slit up above her waist      
Tunic style held with a silver chain just under her breasts      
And, yet, the fabric stayed close to her body      
Except, as she drove, her movements      
Bared her leg      
As if the fabric willed it so      
Showing, the tunic was all she wore      
Showing also,      
Pearl white glowing skin and a glimpse of red/black pubic hair      
        
An instant erection      
Painful one      
Pain in my balls      
        
The ride may have been long or maybe it was short      
I don’t remember      
        
Arrived  
In full moonlight  
at a familiar meadow      
In its center, already spread, a white silk star shaped cloth      
        
Like last year      
Waiting for us      
To finish      
What we started      
A year ago      
      
She whispered      
"Your flight was late      
It's almost time      
Get ready      
Quickly"      
        
I stood frozen      
Her red/black tunic flowed off of her      
without any effort on her part      
pooled at her feet      
She looked at me      
screamed      
"Now!"      
        
I reached to unbutton my shirt      
She ripped it off of me      
My t-shirt too      
Also, my      
shoes      
socks      
pants      
briefs      
        
The shredded pile made it clear      
How quickly it had happened      
        
Both of us naked      
Nipples erect      
Penis painfully so      
She was already wet      
I could see droplets glistening in her hair      
Dampening the inside of her thighs      
        
"Lay down      
On your back      
Spread to the pentagram      
Like I was last year      
This year, I'm on top.      
Now!”      
        
She shoved me on to the cloth, down to my knees      
        
"On your back.    
Now!"      
        
Tears in her eyes      
        
I rolled over, splaid myself out      
Open, exposed      
Penis to the sky      
        
She knelt between my legs      
Bent over      
Touched the tip of her tongue to the tip of my penis      
Slid her mouth down so that all of me was in her mouth      
Deep enough, some of me was down her throat      
As much of hurry as she had expressed      
She took her time moving me in and out of her mouth      
Down her throat      
Once      
Twice      
Thrice      
I was squirming      
The strokes reached      
Thirteen      
        
She pulled back from that thirteen stroke      
She leaned forward      
Her hands reached toward my chest      
Simultaneously      
Using the nails of her left hand on my right nipple      
Her right thumb, forefinger on my left nipple      
She pinched, pulled, twisted, and lifted      
Pain caused me to gasp      
Buck my hips forcefully upward      
        
She had positioned herself perfectly      
The force of my upward movement      
Drove my dick deeply into her cunt  
The slamming pain      
Of our pubic bones coming together      
Caused us to jerk nearly apart      
        
        As an unseen clock struck one      
        
Nearly apart, but not completely so      
        
The clock struck a second time      
So too did our pubic bones      
Although the pain this second time      
Matched the first      
It had an ---      
"I want more"      
Obscene sexual pleasure to it      
        
With each of ten more strokes      
Of that clock      
My dick drove into her pussy      
The obscene pleasure grew      
        
With it      
Grew a low sort of growl      
In her throat      
In mine      
Mine deeper than hers      
More lustfully, loathsomely, raunchy      
Decidedly more male than hers could ever be      
        
Our mouths locked      
Our tongues raw from each other's teeth      
Our fingers nearly crushed      
With the force of their interlocking grip      
Our legs twisted and twined around each other      
        
Our pelvis bones bruised from battering      
Driving      
Crushing      
Mashing    
Smashing    
Against each other      
        
While my cock squished      
Drove      
Slammed      
Smashed      
In and out      
Of her cunt      
Beating on each stroke against her cervix      
With what must have been excruciating pain for her      
        
It certainly wasn't love      
It wasn't even sex, exactly      
        
The clock counted off      
We keep perfect time      
        
It was number twelve we were  
Frantically      
Frenziedly      
Violently      
Approaching      
        
The clock struck twelve      
Our bodies released      
Her cunt contracted, convulsed      
I cried in pain      
My cock delivered      
She gasped at the flood      
Her contractions, milked me of everything my body had to give      
My discharge filled her      
As my penis relaxed inside of her  
Cum flowed out      
A large wet spot grew on the cloth      
Tinted pink with the blood of the violence done to our      
Pelvises      
Genitals      
        
A seeming moment later      
I awoke in my bed a thousand miles north of Austin      
        
This time      
I remembered everything    
        
I got out of bed      
Glanced at the mirror      
Noticed      
A deep red/black bruise showing through my dried cum matted dark red, almost black pubic hair      
Dick, still red, swollen from its violent use      
Nipples with red, bloody nail marks      
And  
Pearl white skin      
        
From the floor      
Curling about my feet      
A pooled red/black cloth      
Seemed to be climbing my legs      
        
I also noticed      
On my swollen lips      
A smile      
        
All this seen through eyes      
Whose yellow-green pupils were more cat shaped than round
 
 
This group of interrelated poems now has reached six.
 
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/73509-she-was-a-witch-for-the-halloween/
 
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/131827-she-was-a-witch-here-is-part-two-of-the/
 
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/152515-t-was-a-bloody-drink-to-please-hell/
 
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/181254-she-was-a-witch----part-three/
 
https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/240717-equinox/