sickening thoughts come alive at night
with wild
feral screams
rotten teeth pierce through my brain
making my eyess cry through
a river of crimson
blood stained kisses left on my pillow
they devour my body limb by limb
tearing my flesh
as if it were bread
a routine sacrifice
to secure my place in hell.
i want to die
but i'm still alive
as these demonic thoughts
consume me
every night
there's a massacre in my head
a crime scene too horrific to clean up
hopefully
one day
i'll wake up dead.
~d.s.
2:48PM
YOU ARE READING
Into The Black Hole
PoetrySometimes, pain becomes peace. Eureka! He's an oxymoron.It's been almost over eleven months; six months when it got way too critical, but I've been evolving and growing up out of it. It means much less to me now, and again, it keeps reminding me th...
