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I slept soundly that night as I Huddled in my blanket of tightly Knitted flesh, skin so Soft, Silky, Patches Of a hundred souls touching My body, each a moment of death Forever touching another, held together With silken twine. I lay on my torso, it is so soft, to rest a weary head, No ribs do stick or protrude, All taken from this form now Delicately comforting my head, I use not geese feathers, But that of the Finest, Curly, Hair, So tightly held, washed to silk smoothness As they tenderly hold my sleeping slumber. I have moments of sorrow, as I look behind, A head board of white, It is cold as death, but It shows the beauty attained by Oblivion, the passed resting as one above my head. I maybe called a monster, but in death is sleep For the dead now slumber with me, I hear their souls curse me, voices Radiating, Screaming, Violating My thoughts, but this is my time, As each I fed upon, there tortured souls. There anguish feeds me, and when I am Consumed within them, I once again rest. Comforted By sleeping upon the dead They touch me like no living could do, I have another blanket to sew, Yes it must be peeled while you still breath, But your torso is so soft, maybe time for a new pillow.
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Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 7:46 PM UTC
Sleeping Upon The Dead
I slept soundly that night as I Huddled in my blanket of tightly Knitted flesh, skin so Soft, Silky, Patches Of a hundred souls touching My body, each a moment of death Forever touching another, held together With silken twine. I lay on my torso, it is so soft, to rest a weary head, No ribs do stick or protrude, All taken from this form now Delicately comforting my head, I use not geese feathers, But that of the Finest, Curly, Hair, So tightly held, washed to silk smoothness As they tenderly hold my sleeping slumber. I have moments of sorrow, as I look behind, A head board of white, It is cold as death, but It shows the beauty attained by Oblivion, the passed resting as one above my head. I maybe called a monster, but in death is sleep For the dead now slumber with me, I hear their souls curse me, voices Radiating, Screaming, Violating My thoughts, but this is my time, As each I fed upon, there tortured souls. There anguish feeds me, and when I am Consumed within them, I once again rest. Comforted By sleeping upon the dead They touch me like no living could do, I have another blanket to sew, Yes it must be peeled while you still breath, But your torso is so soft, maybe time for a new pillow.
#souls#blanket#killer#flesh#tortured#consumed#torso
poetic-t
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poetic-t
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 7:46 PM UTC
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