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s Willow Jan 29
I was born with a shining golden ring.
The ring looms above cracked and chipped.
Once lit my path,
now breaks my neck with the pressure it brings.

I’ve sprouted demonic wings
Jet black feathered wings.
I’ll fly silent.
Terrorizing the earth
with the people of the night.

I’m not yet ****** to an eternity of
Suffrage and Hellfire.
I’m not “blessed” to spend time in peace either.

I’m stuck mangled into the pain of earth.
The active night walkers shift through my uneasy mind,
as I toss and turn in response to this torment,
I know there is a hidden message I have to find.

So I dig a little deeper,
and read between the lines,
while visions of dark strangers crawl through my head.
I feel anxious,
as though the whole world has been placed in an arena,
and I am centre stage,
dellusionally unaware
that I am tucked up in bed.

Am I dreaming this horror because I fear it will be a reality?
Do dreams really have any ambiguous meaning,
or are they just a fatality.

This man I fear,
is faceless and nowhere near,
and yet I feel his cold and harrowing breath down my neck,
and alarm bells screaming in my scull,
like music for a madman.

I am suddenly captured by this demonic creature,
but cannot inform you,
of anymore than that.
As I have awoken from my slumber,
I shake and tremble with sheer terror,
because there is a face at the window.
And it wants to come in.

So I turn on my light,
and brace myself for the sight,
of a possessed shadow figure from ****,
for tonight, I know
I will go dancing with the devil.
SC Kelley Jan 2
Skin like flowing magma
Eyes like infernos
Lips that would make you want to spill every drop of your desires
Soft aggressive fingers brushing sins into your soul
A voice like boiling honey
Promises of wild fantasies
Contracts signed in blood
All tricks of the Devil himself

~S.C. Kelley
For the curious sinners
md-writer Nov 2018
**** is with us. In our hearts and in our hands.

I don’t know what is in my head, but there are pictures whirling, images dragged up from far away, from places I have never been, and darkness that presses in hungrily to consume the soul of all humanity.
In me there is a foothold. God! In even me a grasping hand able to wield the knife and divide my soul from itself and laugh. To dance around the fire wherein the bones of my victims burn. God, the horror! Flitting shadows, creeping faces, a shuddering crawl because I cannot run.
But of course, if my legs are cut how could I run. There is no hope, but blood and death and horror and laughing faces asking for new dissections.
My body a cocoon of fire around my heart, pulsing out in the open, literally. My chest is torn open, carefully peeled back and my body a spectacle. There is no redemption in this grotesquery. This madness filled with the devils of **** themselves. They gloat over me, reeling drunk upon my destruction and the utter shriveling of the souls who dance around me. I am fighting my own demons not to burst into a million tiny seconds of my life, like shards of glass shatter under too much pressure, a flitting signal in the night like a light snuffed out by wolves. Slavering jowls, moist breath pressed unwilling against cold flesh, and a knife’s blade sliding, gliding through the pathways of my life’s story. Veins emptied of their proper element. Pried open.
"Lay them bear!
Let us see the very soul of you - the inside of those veins. Let us dare to go where no man has ever gone before. To do what no man has ever dared to do. To brave the depths of **** for the satisfaction of knowing that at last we have done something new, something that no one will ever have the bravery, the courage, and dastardly faith to do in a hundred years."
No god was there in that room, only the screaming devils of **** in all the world about us, laughing, laughing at the misery we make for ourselves, the utter torment into which we flee to tear our own souls apart beyond the light of day. There is nothing that we can do to stop them. They are all around us in the night, and in the shadows they are lurking, creeping, whispering. Let them come into your soul, they only want to play a little, gleefully singing the songs of the ******. They are not the ones you have to fear. It is the old devils, the ones who are still insatiably hungry, that you have to worry about. They say they're just here to have fun. But, oh you poor deluded soul, don't you know the fun they call is ******? The messengers they are is death’s own hand, the scythe-wielding master of the times of tombs and all things. By the way, its midnight. Don’t you see the clock? You hear the ticking. They are coming closer, ever closer. Don’t deny it. You know that they are here, it’s true, it’s true. You felt their breath late at night breathing down the back of your neck’s soul.

**** is with us. In our hearts and in our hands.
Sarah Jun 2018
I fell in love with a demonic woman.
I knew her claws would scar me,
her touch would burn,
her eyes would betray the words spit from her lips.
She sold her soul to the devil,
and I gave up my heart for her.
Written 06/02/2018
Aa Harvey Jun 2018
The Flibbertigibbet


Such a ludicrous name, unto you may never have been heard;
But The Flibbertigibbet Demon lives in the land of words.
They hide there in The Thesaurus, in front of our eyes,
Like The Devils spies in paradise.


The bookworm with tapeworm, failed to see The Flibbertigibbet;
But then one day The Bookworm, just happened to come across it.
It stood out from the rest, because it didn’t sound human;
Then I read the description and it simply said Demon.


The demonic disguise, lead to the corruption of the mind.
It is now forever entwined, with the Flibbertigibbet inside.


(C)2011 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Melodie Fowles Apr 2018
Gnarled around
Your rotten core
Flesh and blood
Disintegrating gore

Shambling along
A decaying corpse
Eyes closed tight
Now they no longer work

Each tread endured
Drains your ***** soul
Never once worthy
Never once whole

Your thoughts run so filthy
For that you've always been guilty

So chant along
To the darkness that is night
The darkness that permeates
This stagnant life

Your on a desolate road
To your own destruction
Never able to exist
Without deaths seduction

Stripped of flesh
With every person you encounter
No sense of self worth
So your soul they devour
Your surrender to their torture
Gives them all of your power

Hang your head and take what's due
You know you deserve it
And know it's for you

Savouring the pain
That's stripping you bare
It's all you understand
A demonic affair
Demons possess you
In this unholy lair
Always together
As your life they snared.
Rob Sandman Mar 2018
No...more...bickerin,
your eyes flickering you're nickering
your nit pickin' lost it quick as the Dickens
My tracks a **** of a kickin'
you're just the next feckin victim,
of the flow bound Hurricane of sense and rhythm,
The Sensemilla Sensei Kempei of verbal Kempo's home,
Like Alladin and Saladin mixed with a Party Boobytrap a Paladin of Palindrome...
The Storm rider glider blasts you through the  other side of the Thunderdome
My - Spitfire drips Ire as ******* ***** fire Surprise in your eyes quick blast from the past from a .50 Cal Microphone-
Fiend in me soul under control you failed your roll,
will check failed-I check wills,its a Checkmate mate you-best quill your will and will to build some soul
Its a dill of pickle you're in - you're a nickle worth of Nickleback stickleback sticklebricking best Lego
I let go last, I'm the Legolas of the fast pass in the underpass stick you fast now you're stuck fast I buck fast at your glass of Buckfast
the Truculent, ever vigilant-words are Succulent got you diggin' in
diggin' out a liddle bit of Lidl in a stolen digger,move quicker stop the friggin' in the riggin' little Pigpen Pigeons time to drop the bridge in...
Just a bit of an experiment to see if I could start slow and simple and end up demented(all rhymed at full speed and full volume)
and...yup, Mr Sandman's 3rd Lung always kicks in :) by the way Sticklebricks were like an off brand Lego,only ever saw them in Ireland.
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