deepundergroundpoetry.com
Monsters from Depths
I've fallen ill, Life sitting still
Addicted to murder, they kill and they kill,
Is this happening, It cannot be real,
So fucking hopeless, I've forgotten to feel,
Skin like and orange, the flesh is peeled.
A homicidal spree grows within in me,
brought to the depths, so you can see,
what festers, what rots, I won't be caught,
no clue of what stalks, A Lion I prey,
On those not taught,
Of Monsters that feed and cannot be fought,
Disgusting and Vile, a merciless lot,
Thirst and Hunger, along they have brought,
All fall victim, a part of the plot,
The Horses they ride now at a trot,
having more meat they add to the pot.
They feast among beasts to say the least,
Evil and Dead, already deceased,
Having no weakness, not even the priest,
unknowing of mercy, no signs of peace.
This is my sickness, helpless, diseased,
for the glory of Satan, He has been pleased
Addicted to murder, they kill and they kill,
Is this happening, It cannot be real,
So fucking hopeless, I've forgotten to feel,
Skin like and orange, the flesh is peeled.
A homicidal spree grows within in me,
brought to the depths, so you can see,
what festers, what rots, I won't be caught,
no clue of what stalks, A Lion I prey,
On those not taught,
Of Monsters that feed and cannot be fought,
Disgusting and Vile, a merciless lot,
Thirst and Hunger, along they have brought,
All fall victim, a part of the plot,
The Horses they ride now at a trot,
having more meat they add to the pot.
They feast among beasts to say the least,
Evil and Dead, already deceased,
Having no weakness, not even the priest,
unknowing of mercy, no signs of peace.
This is my sickness, helpless, diseased,
for the glory of Satan, He has been pleased
Published 9th Dec 2013
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 3
reading list entries 0
comments 1
reads 622
Commenting Preference:
The author is looking for friendly feedback.
9th Dec 2013 2:19am
It depicts the fearful fright of the growing night as one's eyes close and loses its sight, down the scape where there is no escape, creatures whispering at the bed of your nape....
It depicts that but in far more better lighting. Madness is maddening, its speed straddling... sorry I can't explain it, but this is good. I can feel it. Its what every poet knows. The tortured artist complex. I feel it now and you feel it too. Sorry my brain isn't working too well, its too fast.
"All fall victim, a part of the plot," Luring in the prose writers. :)
It depicts that but in far more better lighting. Madness is maddening, its speed straddling... sorry I can't explain it, but this is good. I can feel it. Its what every poet knows. The tortured artist complex. I feel it now and you feel it too. Sorry my brain isn't working too well, its too fast.
"All fall victim, a part of the plot," Luring in the prose writers. :)
