Stolen, After a Life:
Within the shriveled, grey, skin of the thing
a hardened carbon, peach-pit began to
twitch, to tick.
Mouth dawned a gaping night where all
the white stars dulled to old photo yellow.
It lurched, grasping bonily as it smelled the sour, fear-twinged sweat saturating my clothes. Milky orbs punctuating its grey face,
vile and seething vision like an x-ray penetrates my flesh.
Salivating for the sin of my existence.
Lost in the chasm of a burnt soul
I cower, leaning weakly, cain under god -
as the grey-skinned thing ambles forward;
nostrals flaring, sucking in the scents.
Lights flicker along the ceiling,
every inch of wall the paper and paint
are peeling revealing bone beneath.
Hungry, maleficent motes whorl and
dance their ritual to the pulsing beat
It came from shadow, rising up
on an infernal stage platform from Nowhere.
A demon-gollum confined to mottled bone with fine, reedy strings of hair plastered to the skull, a grey matter mistress mated to the soul