Along the path deep in the fragrant wood.
A corner turned the carriage stopped on the dirt trail.
A masked man, long coated frop.
Demanded our pennies and all that we have.
Birds singing, the sun is shining,
showing through branches and leaves.
His gun controls us all, each nervously smiling.
The masked man relieves us of our worldly weight.
A cool breeze brushes our white faces,
and in the far distance a laugh echoes through the woods.
Resonating on dew covered leaves that line the path.
Nervous and twitching the masked man gets jumpy.
The fragrance of flowers reaches my nostrils,
just before the sulfrous boom.
Each person falling with each heated blast,
upon the soft moss covered forest floor.
The rumble like a distant thunder,
the sound of his horses hooves as he rides away.
Warm and wet the scarlet flow comes from my lips.
My eyes catch a bird fly overhead as my daylight enters darkness.

The darkness closed.
A wind did moan.
The moor at night.
I walked alone.
The moon was full.
But shed no light.
The cloudy sky.
Hid it from sight.
A distant howl.
My heart did race.
A cold gaunt look.
Covered my face.
The snarl behind.
A scream in fear.
Claws and fangs.
My flesh did tear.
The beast retreat.
A wind did moan.
The moor at night.
I died alone.

I put human hair in a wax coffin,
and buried it in the graveyard.
It caused the death of an enemy of mine,
and made me feel powerful.
But everyone knows there is a price to pay,
when you toy around with life and death.
And the memory of my enemy began to haunt me,
when I saw his children at the store.
Or saw his wife alone in the park,
and saw her grief stricken face.
It came back as a curse upon me, my deed,
began to drive me mad.
Now I sit alone in a padded cell,
not a cell of stone, but one in my mind, relentless in torture.
Torturing me for the life I took,
from putting human hair in a wax coffin,
and burying it in the graveyard.

Upon the hardened wood hearth floor,
the ashes of my lost loves letters lay.
Entrenched in embers glowing more,
brightly as the wind did stray,
from the opened cabin door.

And with the wind a whisper sounded,
so my head perked to hear,
til the faint cry of love resounded,
as if my lost love was very near.
The sound calling as my heart pounded.

Through the cabin door I raced,
and plunged deep through bitter snow.
I ran blindly and tried to trace,
the crying sound of the love I know.
Deeper and deeper through snows I paced.

Til I reached the gate of souls departed,
the cemetary where my love was buried.
And to her crypt the sound it started,
growing fainter as I hurried.
From within the tomb dark uncharted.

I mustered courage and wrenched the door.
And turned the handle and sprang within,
and fell upon the icey floor,
but there was no sound to my chagrin.
Naught but howling howling of wind did roar.

The darkness gathered and to her tomb,
I crept forth and and pulled near.
As cold winds held me within their womb,
My eye released a final tear,
as the icey cold brought on my doom.

rats in my attic
scratching and gnawing at the wiring
i can hear them crawling in the walls
i can feel their small eyes peering at me
through holes in the floorboards
waiting for the darkness
waiting for the silence
sleep
cant sleep
rats in my attic

Awaiting by the lighted post,
your way is shown with the dancing rays
of gaseous flames and orange light.
The brisk cold evening,
cobbles underfoot damp and glistening from the
moist felt air of the night.
I hear your steps are quick and sure
as you approach me echoing across the
mist, you visage appearing within my sight.
We embrace a spinning and twirling mass,
dancing together our cloaks
and arms entwine so tight.
A lover becomes enthralled in such emotions,
you have left your home to give me elders words
that our love is far from right.
And you repeat the tear filled message
of how this will be our last time
to enjoy each and our delights.
To this my mind goes numb
and tears are blackness upon my eyes, the rage
makes my brain a seething blight.
Then surprise and horror fill your face,
the darkness cloaks us from prying eyes
and my cold hands grip your neck so slight.
And I take from you your dying breath,
if I cannot have you no-one shall, and
I give you deaths long kiss goodnight.

Your cold so cold your skin is cold
as stone upon the graves tomb floor.
Your face so still and white and gaunt
as peaceful as the night before.
Awake awake I screech your name and
wretch and howl and thrash and mourn.
At you I rage and and at life itself and I
wish that you were never born.
The plunder of death and plague filled nights
I yearn to see nevermore.
And your cold so cold your skin is cold
as stone upon the graves tomb floor.

A shade did pass from stoop to step,
and under door the shadow past.
And raised my head from slight dimming light,
and turned on tail a wine filled glass.
A knock ensued and I harkened forth,
and stumbled to with drunken walk.
And opened upon to empty porch,
and squinted and peered into the dark.

“Blast!” I sang and loudly slammed,
the heavy and wrought iron door.
But then I fell as I turned about,
writheing in stupor upon the floor.
And as my head I lifted high,
and as I bent knee to lift myself.
I spied a darkened shadowed form,
standing silently near the shelves.

A heart beating start did fill my drunken brain,
and caused me to now very quickly rise.
And shout out “who stands there man?”,
for its face I could not surmise.
But naught it said but its hand outstretched,
and boney digit pointed straight.
At the table where once I sat,
and the bottle from which I drank.

And in the flickering light of fire,
a figure in chair, where I previously rest.
Appeared its likeness to mimic mine,
save for the rhythmic rising chest.
Now horror struck as realization came,
and hooded shadowy figure assailed.
With a long and dark metallic scythe,
it wrenched it through me as death prevailed.

still the well
but at night it stirs
with darkened waters rippling fear

reflects the sight
of all who look
and unto the darkened waters peer

tells the tale
of deeds unsaid
and horrors whispered throughout the town

holds my secret
of my long lost love
whose body i tossed to wet blackness down

Down by the river on a thursday night.
I was walking along the mushy shore.
River smell of water, fish, breezes.
I came across a small cove, hidden within a thicket of trees.
There inside sat alone upon a rock, the corpse of a victim.
The victim stared, bloated from water, out to the rivers edge.
Its skin mushy like the shore below.
Rotting white flesh stank of fish the same, no breeze in the cove.
Its mouth was full of seaweed and stagnant blood.
And the hair was matted and moldy full of dirt.
Knife wounds on the bloated body,
indicated the victim died a death seen not by many.
Horror, pain and suffering, alone except for the murderer.
Climbing to sit on a stone in the water as death approached.
The eyes reflecting the final terror of death.