Foul, hideous, and horrid
Unfit for natural light.
An image, none as grisly
As the man named Simon White.

Once his heart was broken
So he kept the pieces in a box.
Tethered safely to his hip
With tight chains and key-less locks.

His mind was wont to wander
To clouds too high and skies too far.
So to keep himself grounded down to earth,
He kept his brain inside a jar.

His teeth would never smile.
Traded some and sold the others
Each to an unfamiliar home
Now all without their brothers.

Oh, his tongue was such a bore!
So he minced it to a paste.
He boiled, baked, and seasoned it
Yet still it had no taste.

He grew tired of his eyes
Looking down and looking back
So he took a brush with inked tip
And painted them pitch black.

The shrieks and wails of the passerby
He could not stand to hear.
So he melted a *** of candles
And stuffed the wax in each ear.

His face had done no wrong
But with fear it one day might,
He took a knife and chopped its nose!
Less from prudence and more from spite...

Born in nineteen seventeen,
And died in sixty-seven.
His heart gave out, he became a ghost!
But did not go to heaven...

So now he haunts these hallowed grounds
From silver nights to dewy dawn.
His spectral frame glides above the grass
And drifts across the lawn.

But when morning comes and moonlight fades,
He knows it's time to leave.
To allow the other graveyard patrons
Their own time to grieve.

So he floats off to his tombstone,
Lies down in this coffin bed.
Every morning he dreams he is alive-
But each night he wakes up dead.

With trembling heart and flickering flame
I'm guided by worry and followed by shame.

With each creaking step, grievous mistake,
I lose a bit more of the courage I fake.

I curse my bravado for coercing me out!
As it's slowly and surely replaced by my doubt!

Shaped by shadow and forged in gloom,
A devil is born to fashion my doom!

Behind every corner, window, and wall,
The horror draws nearer with hungering call!

"Hear me Villian, make yourself known!"
Any fear I pray I've kept from my tone...

Oh what madness for the midnight mind!
To seek a beast I hope not to find!

A terror- I know it! I'm confident and sure!
The apex of fright, in essence so pure!

A lashing tongue and eyes in rows,
Razor sharp teeth to feed on my woes!

Legs much too many and mercies too few,
My advent of fate has come for its due!

I wish not to witness the monster I've made
So I blow out my candle... and welcome the shade.

Gangly ghouls and ghastly ghosts.

Grimy goblins, gremlins gross.

A graphic, grizzly gallery

Of grim and gruesome, giggling glee.

These beakers are my canvas
And brewing her is my art.
To craft the deadly elixir,
That stops and starts my heart.

Two parts lovely,
Another three of yearn,
That subtle hint of sweetness
Gives it that extra burn.

Her crimsons blush and her violets spark
Then crash into her blues,
They swirl and twirl and bleed together-
A dance of violent hues.

Her colors mix into a bubbling
And her scent fills up the room.
Mesmerized... I am transfixed
By my bottled doom.

I pull out her stopper
and press her to my lips.
I drink her down, fast and slow.
Large gulps and tiny sips.

Immediately my body's seized
By her cold embrace!
Then I feel my insides boil,
Blood rushes to my face!

A foot through darkened doorstep,
My nape in devil's jaw!
She tears me from inside out
With tooth and fevered claw!

Desperately I reach for her-
Just a few drops more!
They trickle slowly down my throat
And pierce me to my core!

I need not water nor fine wine,
She is my only draught;
The taste of either, happily,
I have long ago forgot.

I will draft another batch tomorrow
Of this there is no doubt.
My love, my venom, my sweet ichor...
The poison I cannot live without.