Ultima Mortis
I throw her to the water's edge,
cover her with stones.
I regret, but then forget
her cold beauty that carried me away,
where the sun now sleeps completely.
An evil conscience of glory and relief
makes me think the Devil is the master
of this skill.
How lovely she is on a bed of flowers.
There is a morbid charm where a sob
escapes under frothy blood.
My soul trembles
on the banks of death, where she is
swept away,
Far from the sight of God
there is still a guilty desire
for the laughter of the sea,
those poisonous eyes
breathing life into me.
A scarlet tear runs from her cheek.
This is goodbye.
The crooked shadows look down with
shame to wake the dead.
Heaven and Hell collide.
Please don't be dead.
Just one more miracle?
Drowning in her panicky moans,
I realized I was indeed, a ghost,
watching the night sky made up of bones.
Dead Ink
He said he was here to
Help me, pay me for
What I was owed
I just said, ‘No.’
I had fallen into his trap
His silver tongue spit silver bullets
Leaving me with scars I'd never show.
A cold place to be
As I slip into the waves
Of the silent sea.
Walking for what seemed like
An eternity
Sweating under the setting sun
Madness jabs at my brain.
Voices echoing
I lick my perfumed
Lips wondering.
Staring into the enchanted eyes of the
Green Fairy; Absinthe, my only real friend
Heavenly greatness descends upon
My numb body.
My spirits are revived
Yet this silence is the
Heart’s worst suicide
And hope is the cruelest
Devil with angel's wings.
I write a letter to the dead
I write with a maddening hunger
I write myself into nervous breakdowns
Where the stars will not align
And sadness is the sun.
Feel the shadows move across my skin
Intoxicating, irreplaceable
Magical.
You are all the above,
Guilty of sin and dust.
You wear a hellish guise like
A demon
Staring at me with an open mouth,
Widened eyes.
You are the fight in my soul,
This life of crime,
The fight in my soul until the
End of time.
This bittersweet pain is enough
To call your name and run
For cover,
Demoniacal lover.
You are the hole down below.
You and I will make more dust.
Love me, love me,
Put it in the ground,
Where the flowers grow.
In the silent hourglass of
The blackest hells that
Guide us now,
I danced with the devil
I was his prey.
And afterwards, there was
Only a gaping emptiness
The familiar ache,
I fill my pockets with pebbles
And poems no muses
Will ever read
And wade into Lethe.
Rising, I do not find his face
I drown with a stranger's arms
About my waist.
All mirrors break with
Haunted murmurs
Beneath my feet
As passing mist;
Smoke and mirrors of the
Devil's magic red right hand.
At Midnight, I’m out for a stroll
I greet the devil
Out there collecting souls.
Walk with me, Cerberus
From Hades to the Hounds of Hell
Fear...
Is all to itself.
Murderer
Who entered the door?
When I had the key?
I remember forgetting
Hands passing right through me,
Over my skin and closed throat
I was diminished of my own accord
The smell akin to fear, rotting leaves
Blow in through an open window,
The house was rotting
The lights stayed on while we slept,
A strange film like wax hung over me
In the collapse of the wreckage,
How little I understood
Like a black-and-white photograph
In the bloody aftermath,
You are gone
Key marks scratch the door jamb
The paper lamp sweeps the remains
Of what was obvious and what was lost
Night seeps through the window
As a warning in this bloody holocaust,
The final maelstrom covers the cursed night
Morning never arrives peacefully from the final fight
With soft red flesh as red soup again and again
Your cold eye stares at me through paper skin,
You died so young, oh so young
Why did I deserve to live?
My guilty confession unuttered?
I was always the invisible one
Walking like a spirit amongst others
They would hurt me just for fun
But no one expected me to become a cold-blooded MuRdErEr...
The murders started slowly
Each night, another would be gone
You could call this unholy
But when being a MuRdErEr, splatter doesn't matter...
Alexis Child hails from Toronto, Canada; home to dreams and nightmares. She worked as a Social Service Worker befriending demons of the mind that roam freely amongst her writings. Alexis once lived with a Calico-cat child sleuthing all that went bump in the night and is haunted by the memory of her cat. She had a small measure of underground success with her gothic rock and darkwave bands in the past. Besides having rare mystical experiences she hopes are not just short circuits in the brain, she writes dark poetry, starving in the garret with her muse. A starving child is a frightful sight. A starving vampire is even worse. Please donate non-perishable food items and B-negative blood (and make it a double!).
Alexis’ fiction has been featured in Danse Macabre, Schlock, Screams of Terror, and U.K.’s Dark of Night Magazine. Her poetry has been featured in numerous online and print publications, including Aphelion, Metaphysical Times, The Horror Zine, ParABnormal Magazine, The Sirens Call and elsewhere. Her first collection of poetry, Devil in the Clock, a dark and sinister slice of the macabre is available on Amazon. Alexis' second collection of dark poetry, Singing the Bones, is now available on Amazon and from Cyberwit Publishing.
Please visit Alexis’ YouTube Channel:
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCg6S5u4yX73kA1ZWGnKaEBA/videos
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