It Comes
The thing pounded
On the door,
The walls trembling
Like a tiny drop of water
Whose gluish orb bobbles on the ceiling
And whose strength will give out soon.
I glanced at my companion.
“We’re going to die,” I said.
“That’s not the worst thing to happen.
Look at it this way,” he said,
As his whites boiled and bled,
Their veins clawing around the irides,
The irides choking the pupils,
And the pupils popping out
As bullets which shot and spilled
Onto the floor to scatter about.
I didn’t want to see it that way,
But I had to anyway.
And so my eyes did that too.
It had entered.
We impled
To the table,
Our resolve splitting
Like a dry clump of clay
Which shatters into gray crumbs
And is lost among grains of sand forever.
Once inside,
The thing fed us.
It apportioned the squirming morsels to us each,
psychopompously stretching its many elbowed arms
across the table and into our mouths.
And now we can speak the truth too,
As it did before us so bold.
Night spoils soon,
But the untold tales still shriek to me to be told.
The Bleeders
The bloodsuckers are among us
They only come out at night
Gather the crosses, the garlic, the silver
Protect your throat from their bite
They have drunk too much already
It gurgles and roils inside their gut
Dead – they never piss it out
So bulbous and bloated they strut
Their rupturing skin splits away
The crimson flows from every pore
And after they gather a man into their mouth
They come for more and more and more
Pregnant with blood they roam
The few who escape are all alone.
No wails they weep,
Their cries they keep.
For with no moans or tears inside, they will hollow
And as shells with no yoke will shatter,
Drifting to nooks where the dawn never reaches,
They will scatter.
Murder
The female form, in its elegant way,
Can blind a man for nearly a day.
But summer will end, she knows the tune,
Abandon the bar and the lipstick maroon
Terrible machine howls down road
Squirming brain can’t release its hold.
Fragile frame gobbled apart
Body die, soul depart.
Beauty never again displayed
Black blood boils in the glare of a Texas day.
The Road Leads to Nowhere
The eyes gaze through the portal
Into the somber glow
Where the eating has given way
To the stumbling down below.
The daylight never tarries
For someone such as me
Though each and every moment
feels like eternity.
And so I must diminish
That is all that’s left to do,
My recollection fading
And my memory of you.
I spread the blood on the floor
They’ll think I’m a dangerous man
It’ll look like I slew a hundred more
But I can only kill as fast as I can.
North Country
Across the wintered fields
The cauldron seethes. Its vapor and smoke
Blots out stars, moon and sun
The hungry slink through the twilight and choke
To feed from what should be shunned.
Yawning round mouth,
It calls them in as they desperately stare.
Gingerly they touch the rim
Soon to join the brew: bone, flesh and hair
They clamber up and dive within.
The wind softly sighs
Like a wound her form appears
She dips her spoon, draws things apart
A warty lip drinks of their tears
The witch hoists aloft the melting heart.
Lightning crackles
Her curse replete with awful gloom
It will remove all merry mirth
Will seize the shadow from the moon
And place it down upon the earth.
So while we yet have time,
let us wallow in love under the tapering glow
In the wind of the North Country.
Locate the sorrow which all shall soon know
Her cackle can find its way to me.