my new poems

A Broken Heart, A Broken Mind

Chop
The cleaver, freshly sharpened,
Sinks into your ribcage, breaking
Ribs and puncturing your lungs.
Placing my hand on your slowly
Rising chest, I free the cleaver
And raise my arm above my head.
Chop
Bringing it down at a different angle
I cut into your heart, the life
In your eyes fades as they did mine.
You broke my heart, and now
I break yours. But my heart
Wasn't the only thing to break.
Chop
The cleaver sinks back into
Your lungs, blood spraying
In pink mists onto my face,
Mixing with my tears of joy and rage.
You did this to us, to me, to yourself.
You destroyed our perfect world.
Chop
I wipe the fresh blood off of my
Glasses, glaring at your now
Cooling corpse as the blood drains
Freely. Your lungs nothing but
A chopped mess. Your heart,
Your black, ****ing heart, a
Lacerated work of art as more
Blood runs like a flowing river.
Chop
I bring the cleaver down onto your
Left hand, yelling in pained rage.
That hand once wore a ring
I gave you when you said yes.
It now wheres a liquid crimson glove.
Your once warm, welcoming flesh
Now starting to feel like the lifeless
Cold ***** you really were.
Chop
Into your stomach where our
Talked about child would have
Grown inside of you for almost a year.
Nothing but butchered intestines
And a pool of stomach bile
And dark, almost black, blood.
Chop
Into your stomach again,
My face wearing a fresh crimson mask,
Dripping onto the floor before me.
Bits of intestines lay on the table
With your butchered body.
Chop
The cleaver sinks through your cheeks
And separates your mouth,
Severing your lower jaw from your
Skull, hanging by a few tissues.
The same mouth I used to kiss,
That used to tell me that you
Loved me more than anything.
The same mouth that lied to me,
That persuaded me into believing
You that you weren't cheating.
Chop
The blade gets stuck into your
Skull, right above the nose and
In both of your hazel eyes.
Those eyes that lured me in
The first time we met, that tore
Down every wall I set around my
Heart. Those eyes that hid the
Emotionless creature that you are.
I pull the cleaver out of your skull
With a satisfying sound of blood
And liquid from your eyes
Helping the blade become free.
Chop
I lacerate your right thigh,
Right down to the bone as I
Glare once more. Those thighs
That lead up to what you gave
Away so freely to any man
That called you beautiful.
Those thighs lured me in at night
When we were alone and feeling
Like we needed to ravage each other.
Chop
More vicious this time, back
Down onto your right thigh,
Bone chips hitting me in the face.
I used to rub these thighs
After you had a long day at work,
Softly kissing them as I looked up
To your smiling face, beckoning
Me to move further up, begging me.
Now no form of rubbing or kissing
Could make this thigh feel better.
Chop
Down onto that cave you called
A pussy, somehow making your
Slit even bigger than it already was.
I lost count of how many men
Entered that cave of yours.
How many you told that you
Were single, that you loved them.
Someday they'll meet the same fate
As you, but for now, you are
My work of butchered art.
Chop
Once more into your skull,
Right between your draining eyes.
You broke my heart and destroyed
What was left of my mind.
You kept me sane and created
The creature that took your last breath.
You broken me and now I broke you.

You are just like her.
I'll have to take care of that.
The nights of watching you,
Going from one guy to another
As if they were pawns in your game.
I'll fix that.

So here we are, brunette.
You upside down and me wanting
A messy, haggard work of art tonight.
So I brought something along
With me that I never thought I would.
I rev up the chainsaw, the smell
Of gas fumes reaches my nostrils
As the blade growls to life,
Craving what I crave.
Oh this should be a fun toy to use.
I walk over to your outstretched
Right arm, smiling, I press the spinning
Chain against your wrist and let
It eat right through the joint.
Blood begins to spray before I remove
Not only my chainsaw but your hand.
'Oh, silly me, I forgot to pull down my gas mask.'
I pull down my mask as your hand
Drops to the floor, blood spurting from the nub
Like a small fountain.
An almost clean cut.
I am beginning to like this new tool of mine.
Your muffled screams and gagging
Make me tilt my head, wondering if
The pain you feel now matches what you
Made others feel?
But how would you know that?
Just like her.
Are you starting to feel light headed?
Is the blood loss too much?
Maybe the loss of something else will
Help bring you back to your senses.
Ever so lightly I press the tip of the saw
Against your sternum and begin to
Cut upward along your abdomen.
How's this?
Does this take the attention off of your
Multiple boyfriends?
Does it help make you forget about
Your missing hand?
Just wait.
I put down the chainsaw and reach
Into the fresh incision, tearing at vital
Organs and pulling them out one by one.
You won't need these anymore, I promise.
Now, you're empty just like your heart.
How's that for forgetting a missing hand?
Oh, still crying about it?
Or now realizing your mistake?
Which is it, you *****?
**** it, you actually disgust me.
As much fun as I am having with this,
I want to end your pitiful existence.
No, no, don't die.
I'll take care of that myself.
I pick my chainsaw back up and once more
Bring the bloodthirsty beast to life.
I lower the blade against your neck
And begin to cut into your flesh, smiling
As what is left of your blood sprays in
Fine mists as well as run down your face.
Oh how your body twitches.
I pull the blade from your neck and laugh
Behind my mask as your gurgling comes
To end, nothing but blood but not much
Left inside of you.
I resume your beheading and press the saw
Ever harder against your neck, cutting through
Flesh and bone effortlessly.
Your lifeless body convulses slightly before
Becoming still.
Your head lays on its side, staring ahead,
With eyes wondering why.
You know why.
And maybe next time, you'll learn not
To be such a whore.

When I look at the scars
That line my left bicep,
I miss the feeling
Of the cold kiss of steel
As it slit open the flesh
Of my arm.
I miss the warmth as my
Blood began to run down
Over previous scars.
I miss the feeling of physical
Pain that helped me ignore
Emotional pain.
I was so human with those
Emotions and blood.
But now one of those two
Are missing and I admit,
I still bleed.
So tell me, how does it feel
When I drag the blade
Across your wrist?
Do you feel the same
As your blood runs freely
In crimson rivers?
Did you enjoy that cold kiss
The razor has perfected?
Don't fight it, please.
I want you to enjoy it
As I used to.
Does it feel better on your thighs?
Like the kiss of a tender lover?
Are your naked thighs warm
With the blood that covers them?
Don't squirm, I don't want to hurt
You.
I want you to enjoy it.
Do you feel numb to your
Emotions or does fear
Course through your veins?
Do you wish it to end
Or want it to last forever?
One last kiss, I promise.
A kiss to the throat,
Leaving it's mark, calling
Forth the rest of your life fluid.
Did you enjoy that kiss?
Was it pleasurably numb?
Was it as I have described?
Oh how I miss that feeling.
Shh, enjoy it, please,
As I have once enjoyed it.

Thank You...

For always being there,
Even when what I am going through
Is nothing but a shrug of the shoulders...

All it had taken was one shitty
Poem on the Neopets forums
Way back when (2003 maybe?).

The biggest case of "right place
At the right time."
Basically pure luck.

I can't remember shit about that
Day, about which Neopet
I owned, what the poem was
About but I remember how kind
You were and how you told me
About exasko (before it was hacked).

You and I clicked instantly.
Poetry, music and gaming stuff.
We lived (still do) miles apart
And yet became inseparable....

I thank you for the years
That you have been there,
Talking me out of stupid things
Or talking me into good things.

We've had our own shit times and rarely
We had good times. But together
We always had good times
And rarely bad times.

I can count the times on one hand
That we ever argued or fought,
That people ever got between us.

You've always been there,
Even through the times where
My depression made it impossible
For me to even say more than a few words.

I thank you for that, for not giving
Up on someone considered a lost cause.
For not seeing me as a **** up like
Everyone else does.

You may not believe it but the happiest
That I have ever been was when
We finally got to meet and stayed
With you for three weeks.

I never smiled that much in my life,
Never laughed as hard and never
wished to be home.

I felt at home with you and your family.
I felt so welcome there and felt
Like I belonged somewhere for once.

I thank you for that, the best
Three weeks of my life, where
Nothing mattered but waking up
And hanging out with you.

I still laugh at the night where
We told my ex's grandmother
That she should have been aborted.
Mike's Hard margarita and fighting
Old ladies on facebook.

I know you probably get annoyed
With me at times, it's natural,
But you are always there...always.

I know, sappy of me, right?
Can't help it, I couldn't think
Of a better way of thanking you,
besides getting you Zelda and TWD
Stuff, than writing you this sappy,
Mushy, emotion riddled thing.

Thank you for the years of patience,
years of support and years of being
That shoulder that I need at times.

Thank you for being my best friend.

Kill Them All...

Is all I hear as I
Stab the Winchester bowie
Into tonight's nameless victim.

Kill them all
Is what I will do with each
Individual ***** I kill.

Kill them all.
It echoes in my head
As her blood runs freely.

Kill them all.
I plan to, I swear it.
Just let me kill her first.

Kill them all.
It drives me insane
Kill them all, kill them all.

Kill them all.
I sink the blade back
Into her warm body.

Kill them all.
Oh how good it feels
To help rid the world of them.

Kill them all.
I slice open her neck,
Smiling as she gurgles.

Kill them all.
No sleep until they are
All in the ground.

Kill them all.
My own personal holocaust,
Slaughtering the human race.

Kill them all.
Her body falls limp
To the frozen ground.

Kill them all.
Is all I hear and all
I will ever hear...until I

Kill them all.

Gore Soaked Vaginal Desecration

Oh how long has it been since
I last created such art for the world?
Hours?
Days?
Weeks? Maybe a month or two?
I don't remember the time but I do
Remember the thrill of capturing the canvas.
Remember the adrenaline of picking
Out the utensils and tools to create
A masterpiece.
A masterpiece that few will get
And others will fear.
Oh how I missed this.

There she lays, tied and spread eagle on
The metal slab that I use as a table,
My eyes wandering over her bare body.
So pale, so soft, so...close to being perfect.
Her dark blue eyes dart back and forth,
Red from the rivers of tears streaming
Down her cheeks.
Her voice croaking from hours of crying
And screaming for help.
Just like the others, help never came.
Why did I ever stop?
Enough about me.
She needs attention and I will give it
To her.
I walk over to my tools and grab
The handle of a brand new
Stihl MS 251 Wood Boss chainsaw,
Carrying it over to tonight's canvas.
Her eyes widen at the sight of the chained
Blade, glaring the fluorescent lights
Off of the well oiled chain.
"What to do, what to do?
Cut you in half like a typical horror
Movie slasher? Or maybe go for your
Neck. Oh, wait wait! How about
Your limbs?"
She screams her rebuttal, fresh tears
Streaming down her shaking head.
"No? Ah, I think I know what you want.
And I can give it to you."
She whimpers quietly, thanking me
And telling me that she won't tell anyone.
I grab my gas mask and chuckle, "I think
That you misunderstood, my love.
I'm not letting you go."
I slip on my gas mask, grab the handle
Of the chainsaw and the pull cord.
Three pulls and it revs to life,
Gas fumes filling my nose.
Before she could start to scream,
I push the head of the blade
Against her slit, smiling as the engine
Of the chainsaw drowns out her screams
And her blood starts to fly.
Bits of flesh and tissue flying up from
The blood soaked chain and her now
Gaping vagina.
The teeth and blade dig deeper into
Her vaginal cavity, cutting and shrieking
Through her pelvic bone, bladder, and uterus.
Deeper and deeper the blade goes,
Bits of flesh and muscle are flung into
The air, blood spraying in fine mists while
Most of it pools under her.
This is what I live for.
This art that only few will understand.
Bile starts to fly as I cut into her vital
Organs, fresh bits of gore hang from
The chain as it tears her apart.
Her screams have long since faded,
Just like the light in her eyes.
Sadly she didn't last long but oh
How she stirred the artist in.
Turning off the chainsaw, I pull the blade
Out of her tattered pelvic area.
What was once a desired hole by
Many men, is now a gaping cavern
Split up her abdomen, dressed with tethers of meat,
Shredded intestines and other organs, and self
Lubricated with blood.
I look down at the gore and blood soaked
Chainsaw and smile, satisfied with its work.
Our work.
Another night, another masterpiece.
The artist lives once more.

thats dark man. i love it. anything in particular inspire that one?

Originally posted by walshy
thats dark man. i love it. anything in particular inspire that one?

"She Was/is Perfection"

She is perfect.

It's all I can think as I carve
Apart her torso, licking my lips
As specks of blood meet them.

She is perfect.

I remove what kept her alive
But not what made her her.
Must keep that intact.

She was perfect.

No, no she still is perfect.
Trust me with this. I know
What I am doing.

She'll never be perfect again.

I try to ignore the voice as I
Stuff the cavity with a firm foam.
She needs to feel alive.

Perfection is long gone.

She is still perfect. She is still there.
I remove her dark eyes and place
Them in a jar of water for now.

Perfection gone down the drain.

I slip fake eyes into her sockets,
Smiling as they stare back at me
But not as warm as they once were.

Why do you ruin these perfect things?

Love. Sick desires...but she is the only
Perfect specimen. The rest pale
In comparison to her.

Did you love this one too?

"Shut up!" I shout into the dimly
Lit room, swinging a fist at nothing.
What is wrong with me?

The price of ruining perfection.

I grab a tube and ease it into her mouth,
Pushing the lubed tube down her trachea.
Even perfection needs air, love.

Perfection only needs air when it is alive.

She will be alive again, you'll see.
She'll be even more perfect,
Just you wait.

Perfection doesn't need embalming fluid.

She needs to be preserved.
Life is cruel...so are we but not to her.
To her, we are knights in shining armor.

When will you realise?

I curl her rigor mortis fingers
Into an O shape, careful not
To snap any fingers off.

Perfection does not need that.

She likes doing it. She has pleaded
For her life with far worse
Than a simple hand job.

She wasn't perfect then.

Lies! She was and still is.
I run a hand over her waxy skin,
Biting my lip at the touch of it.

How cold and fake is her skin now?

I spread her legs, excited in more
Ways than just one to be almost
Finished re-creating perfection.

She doesn't need you touching there.

I fill it with vaseline and a tube,
A little tight but just enough space
To fit in inside of it after a few thrusts.

One day you will see true perfection.

She's perfect. And she is all mine.
Time to rewar-

"Freeze! Put your hands where
We can see them!"

Perfection was your downfall.

No, perfection was only my beginning.

Thats... long. Wow we both came back within a day or two of one another... ha ha! Welcome home.

How it Could Have Ended...

I stare into her brown eyes,
Lost in them at the moment.
Physically and emotionally connected
With someone I let my walls
Down for.
Someone that I willingly gave my heart
To.

Intimate.

Enchanting.

Almost perfect.

Things get a little rough.
She likes being choked while
I am on top of her.
I can do this.
I'm in control of her and myself.

Hands around her throat.

I can feel her pulse against my palm.
It's racing as quickly as mine.
She wants this.
She lusts for this.
I lust for something else.

I begin to squeeze her neck, slowly
Blocking off air and blood flow.
She moans as she pleases herself.
I groan as I feel my urge to kill
Grow the more I squeeze.
She doesn't know that I can end it.
She doesn't understand that I can
Easily strangle her or break her neck.

A couple of slaps to my wrists bring me
Back from my thoughts.
Her eyes are looking up at me, pleading
For air.
I let go, letting her gasp for fresh air.

I almost did it.

I could have done it.

I want to do it.

I lean towards her nightstand and
Grab my knife off of it, removing
The sheath.
The edge of the blade reflect the light
Coming through the window in her room.

So sharp.

So cold.

I drag the tip along her inner left thigh,
The scraping of her skin gives me
Goosebumps.
She moans once more, enjoying the thrill
Of it.
It is starting to piss me off.

I press the tip of the knife hard into her thigh.
The pained gasp causes me to twitch in
Anticipation.
Yes.
She realizes now.

Fear in her eyes, I can practically hear
Her heart trying to break through her chest.
I press the edge of the blade against her
Stomach, sliding up her abdomen.
She winces and gasps as it breaks skin
With cold kisses.

My body is shaking.

I can end it now.

I need to.

With the knife against her throat, the pressure
Of it causing her to have struggle breathing,
She stares at me with fear and lust once more.
I can only think about slicing open her neck
And reaching down into it.

She closes her eyes, arching herself towards me.
She resumed pleasing herself but at a quicker rate.
What is this?
What is she doing?
Why have I not killed her?

She moans out my name loudly, pushing her neck
Against the knife as she releases the pent up tension.
I can't take it anymore.

With a quick pull of the wrist, I slice deep into her
Neck.
Her shocked expression sends childs down my spine.
Oh how I am close to release myself.

A few quick stabs to her chest as she gurgles for air.
I can't help but moan with each puncture.
I'm so close.

I hold the knife up for one final stab and bring it
Down towards her heart.

Yes.

Yes!

Before the tip could touch her flesh,
A couple of slaps to my wrists bring me to.
I look down into her eyes.
Eyes pleading for air.

I loosen my grip on her neck as I blink away
The after images of the oh so vivid thought.
The thought of how it could have ended.

Of how it should have ended.

A missed opportunity.

I stare into her brown eyes,
Lost in them at the moment.
Physically and emotionally connected
With someone I let my walls
Down for.
Someone that I willingly gave my heart
To.

Intimate.

Enchanting.

Almost perfect.

Things get a little rough.
She likes being choked while
I am on top of her.
I can do this.
I'm in control of her and myself.

Hands around her throat.

I can feel her pulse against my palm.
It's racing as quickly as mine.
She wants this.
She lusts for this.
I lust for something else.

I begin to squeeze her neck, slowly
Blocking off air and blood flow.
She moans as she pleases herself.
I groan as I feel my urge to kill
Grow the more I squeeze.
She doesn't know that I can end it.
She doesn't understand that I can
Easily strangle her or break her neck.

A couple of slaps to my wrists bring me
Back from my thoughts.
Her eyes are looking up at me, pleading
For air.
I let go, letting her gasp for fresh air.

I almost did it.

I could have done it.

I want to do it.

I lean towards her nightstand and
Grab my knife off of it, removing
The sheath.
The edge of the blade reflect the light
Coming through the window in her room.

So sharp.

So cold.

I drag the tip along her inner left thigh,
The scraping of her skin gives me
Goosebumps.
She moans once more, enjoying the thrill
Of it.
It is starting to piss me off.

I press the tip of the knife hard into her thigh.
The pained gasp causes me to twitch in
Anticipation.
Yes.
She realizes now.

Fear in her eyes, I can practically hear
Her heart trying to break through her chest.
I press the edge of the blade against her
Stomach, sliding up her abdomen.
She winces and gasps as it breaks skin
With cold kisses.

My body is shaking.

I can end it now.

I need to.

With the knife against her throat, the pressure
Of it causing her to have struggle breathing,
She stares at me with fear and lust once more.
I can only think about slicing open her neck
And reaching down into it.

She closes her eyes, arching herself towards me.
She resumed pleasing herself but at a quicker rate.
What is this?
What is she doing?
Why have I not killed her?

She moans out my name loudly, pushing her neck
Against the knife as she releases the pent up tension.
I can't take it anymore.

With a quick pull of the wrist, I slice deep into her
Neck.
Her shocked expression sends chills down my spine.
Oh how I am close to release myself.

A few quick stabs to her chest as she gurgles for air.
I can't help but moan with each puncture.
I'm so close.

I hold the knife up for one final stab and bring it
Down towards her heart.

Yes.

Yes!

Before the tip could touch her flesh,
A couple of slaps to my wrists bring me to.
I look down into her eyes.
Eyes pleading for air.

I loosen my grip on her neck as I blink away
The after images of the oh so vivid thought.
The thought of how it could have ended.

Of how it should have ended.

A missed opportunity.

The familiar whimpers brings a wide
Smile behind the blood caked gas mask.
Those hazel eyes stare up at me as I
Raise my Bowie knife and plunge the
Blade straight through her shoulder.
Oh the feel of flesh and muscle separating
Beneath the blade sends shivers
Down my spine.
How I missed this.
How I missed creating my unique art.
I slide the knife up and down, slicing
Through more of her arm as she screams
Those useless, pathetic screams.
They always scream.
Always beg to be let go.
One day they'll learn not to fight
Against the blade or teeth.
I slice a nice chunk of flesh off of her bicep,
Raise my mask just enough, and take a bite
Of her still bleeding flesh.
She tastes delicious.
Another bite of her flesh and I lower
My mask back down.
Can't eat just yet.
Walking over to my tray of tools, I hum
A little jingle that I heard earlier in the day
While stalking my new canvas.
Funny how simple things can get stuck in
Your head.
Still humming, I pick up a scalpel
And do the cliche serial killer dance with it.
I can feel her eyes on me.
Soon those eyes will be literally be on me.
So soon.
I resume my spot next to tonight's canvas
And begin to slide the sharp blade down her
Abdomen, to her midsection, down to her pelvis.
Another incision and I dig inside of her.
So warm and wet, and not in the way
She is usually warm and wet.
A little more digging around and I pull
Out a some of her fallopian tube.
I start to play with it a little.
Pulling it, rolling it around, swinging it.
Oh how fun it is.
Putting down the tube, I go back to
Slicing the now silent canvas.
Just need to pull some more skin back
To reveal what she used the most.
And...done.
And inverted cross of gore and whore.
With that, I turn off the ever humming lights
And begin my trek home.

"Torn From the Mouth"

I let her see my hidden emotions.
She knew me.
She knew that I wasn't just a monster,
Not just an artist of the macabre.
But someone that can feel love and
Intimacy when vulnerable.
Yet she betrayed me.
She lied, lead me on, possibly worse.
Now she lies on the table where many
Before her have bled for my amusement.

A clean slice with the scalpel and she shrieks,
Never thinking she would be here.
Blood runs from the incision, draping
Her ribs in crimson.
My hand shakes as my anger rises, causing
The next cut to be deeper than intended.
Gurgles escape her throat as she starts
To choke on her vomit.
Guess I need to clean that out.

I grab a bucket, put it next to the table,
And turn her on her side.
She spews the vomit down onto the floor,
Somewhat hitting the bucket.
For some reason, this infuriates me.
I grab the gag from my try of tools
And place it in her mouth, keeping it
Opened nice and wide.

Grabbing the scalpel once again,
I begin to force my hand down her throat.
Oh how the gagging and convulsing arouses
Me.
The scalpel carelessly slices and cuts
The trachea, bringing forth foamy blood.
I pull my hand out of her now enlarged
And broken mouth and drop the blade.
Quickly, I slide my hand back into her
And wrap my fingers around her larynx.
With couple of violent twists and tugs,
I pull my hand back out of her mouth
Along with shreds of her throat.

Smiling, I drop the gore into the bucket
And stare down at tonight's masterpiece.
All of this could have been avoided,
But oh how it was needed.
With one last wink, I thank her
And go on my way to start a new chapter.

Nuclear Undead

The air raid sirens scream their
Horrifying song.
The flak guns fire but never hit
Their targets.
The bombers drop their load one
By one over the overpopulated city.
The first nuclear weapon of the war
Erupts a couple of hundred feet above
The skyline.
Nuclear war now.

A month goes by after the attack
And the survivors (what is left of them)
Are still gathering the dead.
Mass graves filled with charred,
Mutated, dismembered bodies
Fill the ruined city.
Flies terrorize the surroundings
As they feast and reproduce on
The dead and decaying.

As night falls, several groans can be heard
Through the air but no one knows where
They are originating from.
Survivors go about their business, but
Still curious as to what caused
The deafening groans.
In the rubble, shapes shuffle, limp, crawl,
And drag across the ground.
To the human eye, it looks just like
A trick of the never fading fires.

A scream pierces the hearts of those nearby.
Another scream, a shout, confused yelling
Rise into the night.
A group of survivors go to investigate
The noise, carrying crude weapons that
Were scavenged after the bombing.

With a torch raised high, they look on in horror
As corpse missing the left half
Of its body is bent over a fellow companion,
Eating away at the head.
The corpse looks up from its meal,
Looks at the small group with neon
Green eyes and raises
Its only hand.
A ragged shriek escapes the bloodied mouth.

"Run!" yells the torch bearer.

They run as fast as they can, trying
Not to trip over any debris or fresh bodies.
Shadows move all around them, green
Dots watch them from all angles.
They are surrounded but continue
To run and hope for help.

Can't stop now.
Must keep going.
Lungs burning for air,
Mouths dry from constant screaming.

They come to a stop at one of the
Mass graves and gasp for air, at first.
Soon fear and panic take over those
Gasps as they watch the bodies
Writhe.
Those green eyes affix themselves
On the worn out survivors, causing
The writhing horde to move more
Violently, haggardly, determinedly.

Behind the group, the shambling undead
Have caught up and begin their hungry
March toward them.
The survivors begin to hack, slash,
Stab, slice, and cut at the horde.
Some fall, most shrug off the new wounds
And continue marching.
The forgotten mass of bodies behind them
Finally make it up over the lip of the grave
And grab two of the survivors.

Blood sprays.
Muscle and tendons tear.
Intestines fall into hungry mouths.
Bones pop and break at the pressure
Of the insatiable horde.
They scream and cry as they are
Eaten alive.

Three survivors remaing.
Three worn down, exhausted
Survivors versus the horde of the
Undead.

They are swallowed up by from all sides.
Jagged fingernails and teeth dig into their
Flesh.
Pulling, tearing, ripping.
Throats are torn out by the mouth,
Abdomens scooped clean with undead hands.
Bones left discarded on the floor as organs
And flesh are eaten.

Like frenzied piranhas, the undead
Leave nothing behind except
A few rags of sinew on bloodied skeletons.
Never satisfied, they begin to move again
In search for their next meal.

"Don't Forget Me"

We stare into each other's eyes,
Arms slowly snaking around each other.
Her warm body against mine brings
My thoughts to a calming halt.
This feeling of pure joy,
Pure happiness,
Pure...love.
It completes me in ways I never want
To lose again.

(My hands around her throat,
Squeezing the life out of her
Warm, slender body.
Her wide, brown eyes stare
Into my grey/blue eyes.)

How can one person bring such
Feelings into one so cold?
How can a single soul complete
You like a missing puzzle piece?
Questions with answers I seek
Yet never want answered.
I just want to spend eternity in her
Arms and forget my troubles.

(Weak cries escape her crushed
Esophagus, her nails digging into
My tensed wrists.
How can one person bring on such
A rush to one so cold?
How can a single soul fulfill
A lifetime of murderous hunger?
Questions with answers I seek
And will ask again in a few nights.)

Her full, mocha colored lips press
Against my dry pink lips.
Oh how sweet her kisses are and will
Always be.
I crave them like a junkie craves
His next hit.
Shivers race up and down my spine,
My body giving into her embrace,
My emotions a mix of everything
I missed.

(Her full, mocha colored lips part
Slowly, one last attempt to bring air
Into her collapsing lungs.
Yes,
Struggle more.
I need you to struggle for me.
I love the fight, the struggle,
The act of defiance.
Her body starts to give into my
Crusbing embrace,
A mix of emotions showing on her face.)

Our clothes drop onto the floor,
My hands trailing up her spine,
Stopping at the back of her neck.
She kisses from my lips to my shoulder.
She always knew where to touch me to
Drive me wild.
I return the favor by playing with her hair
And kissing her soft neck.
Her moans are like music to my ears.
Her begging for me to give into the sins
Of the flesh with her cause me to
Bite her neck.
That was her final straw.

(Her grip on my wrists loosens,
Her arms falling to her sides.
Her eyes roll into the back of her head,
Her curly, black hair drops down
Over her left eye.
Oh how it drives me wild,
Watching the light go out from their
Eyes.
Her now lifeless body a victim
Of my sins of the flesh.)

Moaning,
Writhing,
Penetrating,
Riding,
Hands caressing and squeezing,
Eyes locked onto each other's
For what seems like hours.
Shouting,
Thrusting,
Sucking,
And intense climaxes
Write the night like a cheaply
Written romance novel.
Heavy breathing,
Her head on my chest,
Her fingers tracing circles on
My stomach.
"I love you, Justin.
More than words will ever explain.
Please...please do me one favor."
I strain my neck to look down at
The top of her head.
"Anything, my love.
What is the favor that you ask of me?"
She looks up at me,
Smiles, and says...

(Grunting,
Bone snapping,
Spinal cord severing,
And orgasmic laughter
Write the night like a
Low budget horror movie.
I throw her body onto her
Bed, breathing hard
As I run a hand through my
Hair.
With a sigh, I look down at the
Corpse, kneel down next to it,
And whisper into its ear.
"Please do me one favor..."

"Don't forget me."

Well... Just... Well...

I like

A meal fit for a king
Now resides in his stomach
As he slowly strolls through
The rows of wood.

The birds watch from their
Perch, keeping a close eye
On the dark haired man
Walking through the dense forest.

The man holds out a hand,
Carefully letting it slide over
The rough wood, smiling to himself
As he remembers when the forest
Started growing.

The sweet smell of it fills him
With a sense of wonderment.
The shade from the top of the
Forest keeps him cool on
This warm day.

Such a vast forest that seems to
Go on for as far as the eyes can see.
And yet it continues to grow,
The man himself being the one
To plant and expand it.

Many people people have also helped
It grow into what it is now,
But he was the one that watched,
Planted, and took care of it.
Of course, nature also helped.

As if on cue, he spots a few deer
Run away, deeper into the dense
Wood in front of him.
The birds still watched and cried
Out from time to time.

The ground beneath him was
Soft and fertile, a bit wet in places
Where the ground sprouted
New growths.
New additions yet already as tall
As those around them.

The forest didn't have many visitors
Besides the lone man,
And he was happy about that.
Those that refused to visit
Could still see it from a distance away.

The man looks up as the large, black
Birds finally take flight into
The darkening evening sky.
Some of them carrying food,
Maybe for their young, thought the man.

As he watched the birds soar away,
His eyes slowly fall onto the decaying
Corpses of the bodies occupying
The wooden stakes.

Some of them dried husks,
Long dead and eaten by whatever
Could rip and tear at them.
Some still fresh, some even still
Alive, with blood staining their
Pale bodies.

Vlad slowly turns in place,
Taking in all of his holocaustic
Forest before strolling back
To his awaiting horse.