Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Poetic T Feb 2017
The killer is in a hidden room
                               where he rests,
Outside false faces are woven to meet
the needs of normality.
But when he awakens
they descend like petals and they blossom in blood,
will he feed on your nectar
             or will you be the flower that wilts in decay.
Poetic T Jan 2017
As I wiped the blade the congealing efforts of
what had perspired dripped in raindrops of lost essence,
I started to be nostalgic of when it all started and I smiled.
It isn't easy you know doing this hobby
                                        its a full time commitment,
I have responsibilities. And before you ask just because I live
in my moms basement it didn't have any implications to this
and what led to my endeavours of what I do now.

"You cant just go out stabbing people that bath salts territory
for goodness sakes,

Ok when did it start, around fifteen years ago give or take.
To think about it I was quite violated by the sight of blood,
I passed out at school when someone cut there finger. I know
from fainting to where I am today the paradox of it all.
So I was walking home and I thought stupidly to take a short
cut, I know that's just asking for a dilemma of consequences
but I was running late and thought overrode reason.

"Safer than sorry my mother would say,

I should really listen to words of wisdom than to just throw
them aside and regret them later. Well this time was a moment
of ignorance and I delved into my darker side and threw abandonment
to the winds of chance. I saw that idiot and knew without a thought
that his life needed to be forfeit in the eyes of the many.
In haste I went out and without planning I just used a unregistered firearm. These are so easy to find in ponds, lakes, rivers.You just have
to be stupid enough as I was to delve into them with a wet suit.

It was like swimming in the disgrace of humanity and I accidently
swallowed more of humanity than I wish to admit. As I reached
the shore of the golf course I had found a stupid amount of guns....
Do these pools ever get dredged?? how many angry golfers play
on this field?? but I just cleaned a few out not wiping away the prints,
silly little fools leaving there prints on the weapons.

I must admit the first five or six people that were my pleasure
of ending were just **** holes, total and utter ****-tards....
I know you just cant just going around killing totally
worthy munchkins. But it was my weaving of knowledge
into the formula of departing my subjects in a manner so that
a milk carton was the only focus they would get.
Never to show that they were an item of interest but a random appearance of some disillusioned person in a vendetta of misunderstood reasoning's.

But this lost its stimulation of enthralment  pretty quickly
due to the vacant space between us. It wasn't as if they knew
my face, it was just a finger pull and I ended them to hastily,
I even felt somewhat remorseful for them not knowing the
perpetrate of there demise. and a few ran still lingering to this
existence, do you realize the skill set to hit a moving target.
But none got to far, I didn't take it personally, it was a fight
or flight reaction.

But they were always vacant of life when I walked away
from the scene. I was always throwing these weapons
after a few uses, those that had used it before there prints
still viable. So those that had used it were to blame for
these indiscretions that I had partaken in. Karma was about
to visit upon those lost stories that drowned in that pond.

Learning was a curve that was thrown, and one that hit me
square between the eyes. I had slatted the impression that
I was in the right, and even though I wanted to seep the blade
into the flesh of my perspective victim. I had to watch
the implications of what I had preserved  in that moment.
There were struggles and definitions of what was acceptable.

I still had to hold a job, I worked in a hardware store,
"what are the chances, I know. But where you would think
someone that could easily end the breath of another would
stand out only the crazy ones. We the methodical ones were
patient,  too many and whispers starting and I needed silence this
had to be obeyed and enforced by myself. Urges had to vetted
another way and painting was my outlet for these compulsions.

Each one of us had as we called it our own unique ****** kits,
well what did you think we were going to call them hobby boxes.
Me I had a ways to disable my prey, a motion to move them concealed.
I had a people carrier,
                     "I know the humour didn't escape me either,
I had constructed a vessel to keep them static so not to move
and give the game away, kind of like a straight jacket restraint.
For the murmurs I had constructed a gold fish bowl of sorts,
constructed around the neck and then white noise is pumped
in  revoking the screams because of the frequencies of the
human voice.                
                            "science is so cool,

Do you realize it took five years of planning and a college
class in science to do many aspect of this hobby.
But where do I take them, to there own home, always
checking there schedules. Movement = time = opportunity.
And this is how I have worked all  this time, consistency is
what keeps the path clear for other endeavours.
The sense of smell in each home is unique, some people
though no respect of there surroundings and who may visit.

Do realize that some don't voice opinion as they know
if there in this predicament no words are going to change it.
Some struggle, but I learnt to use a paralyzing agent to render
them motionless. Sedated only tears fall from there suspended
features. I never clean up there mess, I'm not a house maid for
goodness sakes all must be as it was. But I clean up my killing
venture so there is no evidence of there parting here.

I have a little spot, we all have our own hiding places,
research is the key, and mine was a secluded place....
I cant explain where, as that would be telling and who
knows who's reading these passages. I must admit though
this is a full time obsession, "norms, that's you people.
Wouldn't realize the stresses that happen upon my psyche.

All I would say is
                 "Don't quite your day job
This isn't really a hobby for most, they don't have the
patience the needing of planning and the waiting of
who shall gift you their last moment then nothingness.
I am wired different to you people. My empathy for
your feelings is non-existent, we are a moment in time
and I plan to silence your hour glass, your grain is about
to fall into oblivions sights and it will swallow you whole.
Poetic T Sep 2016
It was the eve of my birth and within that
moment of creation I was a fallen as the echo
of my cries were thrown into the industrial
******* bin behind the old take-away.

My teen years were so lewd and contrived,
I thought I had friends, but I was like the
******* I was at birth they used me a threw
me away and again I was alone.

It was upon my tenth birthday that I had
lingered in this abyss long enough, I decided
on that day that I would greet those as I was
greeted to return those favours ten fold ,

My step-dad he was my first gift to my suffering
I introduced him to that pain as I quenched his
sight or lack of with a scuffed spoon rims shaper
than a blade I said words as he screamed.

"I  will scoop singular or two, depends on your taste,

Son, please listen to me, he spoke in quivering stuttered
vocals. But I thought it delightful in laughable sniggers.
See how I saw the world, feel the occasions that converted
my emotions to what I'm debilitated to this moment now.

I scooped them out like a ice cream, I thought in this
moment of Mint choc chip, and pineapple sorbet.
Mmm the taste that was seeping from lips. But that
was the blood validating itself on my skin.

All I heard was his voice crying and it made me
regurgitate what I had consumed. It was on the
floor not tasting as it went down like victory.
I just plunged the spoon into his throat...

I didn't want to taste his life, I just wanted to
watch it seep on his white chocolate shirt. It was
like strawberry sorbet with a bitter taste as I licked
a echo of it of my hand "why did I tast it at all??

I had ended so many stains on my life, took their
eyes to show them how I felt. If I had kept them
looking like pickled eggs in a jar. Thinking if they
could still see each others moments in each others sight.

I took their eyes, so each could see how it felt for what
they put me through. I had no guilt, I just consumed
everything they saw and laid it to rest. I wasn't killing
I was just releasing their  guilt and consuming it all.
Poetic T Jul 2016
Little rag doll in poses I place, smiles non linear
lipstick is smeared not as it should be perfection
is not on the features as statically smiling.

Meagerly patched doll how you are in my thoughts.
Knotted hair ill placed bobbles that don't show
the best of the features frozen on your hollow face.

mismatched clothes not in a way a woman of choosing
would place, odd socks an ankle one, poppy long stocking
contrasting is size and colour but you'll never know.

I look at you, a Picasso of imagery displaced on your face.
Looking like you got dressed in the closet blindfolded and
alone. My little rag doll I strategic leave in a lonely place.

I collect these porcine eyes drained of essence, I open
your thoughts and they are discarded in a bag.
Later your thoughts will feed my hungry dog.

I leave you empty vacant as you should be, my rag doll
with uninhabited motivation. hollowed shell of what you
used to be, blank stares between you and me go silently.

They find my dolls in there houses distorted like my
vison of how sights are seen. A play house of disillusion,
my dolls are my creations come will you be a rag doll for me.
Poetic T Jun 2016
I sit next to you and you smile awkwardly,
not knowing the intentions that simmer
within my cerebral cortex,
Neurons spark and I smile with devious  
intentions, I ask you simplistic questions

"So why you here forlorn,

Waiting for those two syllable words "I'm alone,

"No one should be lonesome,

Then walk off to follow you in later moments,
I can smell the fear of thoughts that embed on
the surrounds. You should nervous, you had
me sitting next to you. But wait a minute like
Vultures others yearn for that which is singular.

Can they smell the imminent  ending of a life,
conceding to that moment of who will take this breath.
Me, them, you? untold possibilities but only
one ending different face but the ending is the same.

I follow like a panther after is prey, I watch from a
distance upon my eyes they wonder so contact never
gazed upon but my sights are focused on your demise.
But one does fly upon the honey then the trap in done.

"Police freeze,

Gun shots ring out like church bells, then I'm clipped
by violent actions. I bleed on tainted tiled floors,
But I live to hunt another day.

"Innocence injured in possible cult killers rampage,

But under sedation I see those that could be a next
page on my thoughts, to end them not with anger
not with words but silence never knowing **"Why,
Poetic T Jun 2016
We were frolicking through the streets, amusing ourselves
with what was noting less than bliss.

"Points mean prizes my friends,

"Knock the door go on,
"You do it man,

As they walk up to the door one is smiling the other of a
nervous disposition, "relax man,  they discuss the doorbell
or the policeman knock?
The knock is better louder of course attention grabbing
but then other neighbours will hear its echo and curiosity
will awaken them to phones and regrettably police.

The door bell is rang, but not a murmur so repeatedly
they tap it until luminosity awakens and words of
profanity dripped out like a leaky tap. "Dam,
Looking at each other, as hallway lights emerged and
footsteps danced down the stairs a melody of F's P's
and a kaleidoscope of others painted the air.

If I had a swear jar on this house I 'd be a rich man,
as he unlocks the many bolts. "Not a trusting man I see,
The door takes an age to open as we wait eagerly and
then he grinds it open slower than a snail in a race
with a bullet we start to get frustrated.

"Foot meet door, door meet foot,

As the door releases back and the chain is deprived of
its clasping the gentlemen is thrown back not with a
racket but more like slow motion. Then he hits the floor
Like china thrown from a fourth storey balcony.
Then there is silence, "Check his pulse man,
As one of them linger over him listening to what
ever sign of life is left and then like he was reanimated
from the dead he lunges forward and grabs a clump of
hair. One laughs while the other one screams in a girly
kind of shrike. Composing himself quickly, one swift
five knuckle plant and again the gentlemen is out cold.

"You scream like a girl man,
"Did you see that, it was like one of those zombie flicks,
"Ye right, your just a wetter ma man,

As they stood over the man, now joined by his hysterical wife.
Luckily they always carried a roll of duck tape, you never know
when this will come in handy. As the other wrapped it tightly
around her thin lined lips, and the storm became a drizzle of
crying murmurers. Looking at each other knowing that this only
works in the dark they thought of ways to awaken the sleeping

"I'll punch him, "Really that got us here in the first place,
Pondering on thoughts one skipped into the adjacent room,
"Dude what are you six,  A silence of embarrassment lingered
as into the kitchen he rummaged through the cupboards like a
homeless dog in the litter bin. Looking in the fridge he found
what was needed.
"What ya going to do rub it under his nose that kipper stinks,
"Some thing like that,

He unwraps it gagging at the odour that perforates the air,
"How can you eat this it smells like a prostitutes well used bits,
The woman smirks in a half terrorized quarter amused mumble.
As he nears his prey fish wrapped in a hand towel, whiffing it
below his nostrils. This isn't working the thought, "F#ck it,
Raising his arm up in the air he slaps the unconscious gent clear
in the chops. He stutters awake in confusion wandering what
was happening then in realization he speaks in ferocity.

"What the hell you doing my house, violating our residency,

"Now that's we like the feisty ones,

An edged smile greets the bound hostages, then the rules are
read out, "Are we listening, the untapped swear tin is about
to release a tirade of profanity on both so they bind his mouth
with what is needed (Shut Um Up Duck Tape) [tm] then silence
is blessed on there ears and they begin quickly to explain the
happenings they find themselves in.

"Why you slumbered we went through your thinks,
"Madam that was quiet a section we found in the bedroom,
"Sir are we on the limp list, there are tablets for that,

"Rules stick to them and maybe you'll survive,
"Not and a lot of bad things can happen,

1. Try to alert anyone they and you die.
2. If you try to escape we have family members addresses
we will hunt them and end them with no hesitation.
3. Have fun as your life depends on it, be imaginative.
4. We have rid the house of any and all knives and blades
5. creativity is the master of invention, you understand.

As the old guy rumbles on trying to speak, he un-tapes
his mouth and listens to his frustrated rabbling's.

"How we know you'll not just **** us,
"This isn't our first or 26th no 27th in fact rodeo.
"There were six of us unfortunately there have been
winners and losers on both sides,

"We are but three lonely shepherds now,
"Three I only see two?
"Our friend is outside guarding the entertainment value
of this diverting fun tonight,

And then without words he said two his playthings,
"You have to the count of 100 to hide to do what must be done
make your peace fight or die its your choice,

They untapped there mouths as to not be muffled of sound
easier to hear on the ear if there crying in fear, and with that
the gentleman gives a capture a five knuckle tap.

"Good shot, and good on you, now run dead man walking,

They both scarpered hand in hand, love will **** you the
other man thought as he watched them run like rabbits.
You wouldn't believe it but a hundred seconds takes
quite a long time in the aspect of what were doing.

They at first play games as stomping upon the laminated floor,
so many had ran when they had done this, Idiots. but these
two never flinched, hats off to there courage. Then tactic No2,
we know where you are, were going to come to play with your
insides with our loving blades they like to penetrate you deeply.

As wandering feet did walk on the cold floor they heard the
scurrying of ill footsteps, "we have a rat scampering beneath
our very feet,
Both with smiles lingered on the basement footsteps
and slowly descended as what was waiting clambered around in
aimless wondering. Both thought it was the lonely cowering wife.
Not as once thought as the swear box in the darkness gave birth
to profanities and in the midst of our arrival he was weeping like
a new born child. Our knifes were his voice as blood silenced it.

We wiped the memories of his last lingering moments from
the existence of his blade, this fool thought he had strength but
in the end it bled out faster than others before him.
But wait a moment what about the one that blubbered her
fear in a cascade of tears where was she hiding?
"I can smell your fear it sweetens the air,
Both separated to find and cull the last of this herd.

"Please don't hurt me,
"I'm all alone,

He snuck through the hall way hearing here speech in the
darkened bedroom. His knife drawn, to plunge into its
awaiting pray. heading towards the cupboard he thinks
the prey is getting easier these days. "Found you, as
he opens it wide to find a tape recording on repeated play
and a note saying heel *****.... A confused look on his face
till blood seeped silently down his face. In rage he swipes
missing her by millimetres, then she says one final word.
"These are $500 shoes, and gouges it deeply into his throat.

Screaming in gargled silence, his last sight was her giving him
the finger and her foot gently crushing his throat. She got her
manicured fingers and gently grabbed her neck, cracking the
stress out with each crunch.
"There were three little pigs now there are two...
"Oink, Oink, she giggled in nervous thought.

He stood on the stairs shouting in a lulled voice his partners
name, but with no echo of voices he knew that the game was a
foot and another of his clan had paid the ultimate price.
So the husband with all his voice was a lamb to the slaughter
but the wife, the quiet ones are always the ones to look out for.

He was more cautious now that only the two of them breathed,
they were both the prey but who would be the winner of this contest?
he looked upon the box emptied earlier in haste, the gun?
looking inside a note was penned in scribbled in quickened haste.
"If your reading this well done you found only one of my guns,

He jumped back in embarrassment, he looked around in case the
other was lingering in silence behind him. But no one was there
to his pride and ego he sighed out loud. now was the time to seek
the prize, the hunt was needed as in the next room he found the
still warm but deceased comrade with the heel still in his neck.
"That is so not your colour my man,
He thought there isn't many places to hide in this house, yes it
was larger than the pervious ones but that was half the fun or
was It half there down fall?

She crept within the walls this house was of the cotton days,
hiding those needing escape, through the mirror she saw him
wanting nothing more than to end his life.. but she had no
weapon, or was that a false thought as there were the old swords
Sitting ideal in the loft. They were still sharp as she had found out
not but a few months ago. Paper cut my ****... it needed six stitches
but that had now healed as she subconsciously ****** her finger.

He was getting agitated at the aspect that he maybe next,
but brushing aside that thought he went into the mode of hunter,
seeing if odours of perfume lingered in the air but noting greeted
senses except the smell of blood festering on the air.

"Come out and play I haven't got all night to linger in this place,

She could hear fear in his voice he tried to hide it beneath his manly
fasard that was crumbling like a weather worn cliff on the presapace
of collapse. She was a very varied woman that they didn't know,
fear had collapsed her in the first moments but now that had faded
like a sunset, she was a ventriloquist by trade in her youth quite the
entertainer. But she was retired and welcomed the rest, but no time
was there to catch a breath let alone to breathe.

He was starting to think, he should count his loses and leave.
then he heard voices but not from one spot but other places in
the house. Unbeknown to him there was an intercom system
and she was throwing her voices though out the house.
"Who is that , what do you want, How could there be more
than one? There was only two he thought, were  they wrong when
they entered this house? A lone wolf that needed the blood before
his blood was spilt.

She was happy that she took out one with her skills, now it was
the other two players turns she was going to quarter back slap the
hell out of this final invader of her sanity. But how could she play
him? Her husband was dead, she knew that for a fact they were bragging it through out there gloating verses. This was her moment
to show who the wolf was and that they were the sheep herded to
the optimistic place of the final ****, her or them.

She saw him silent and still, she had never seen him this weak, but
this was his chance to save her skin, she found fishing wire, and a
pardon the pun, a broom you know where that went to keep him
stable and up right. The intercom crackled she played his voice
over and over again she used to drive him crazy with he
impersonations of him, it always brought a laugh but the were silent now.

"Come on think I'm dead you cant **** anger you child of
pathetic consequence,

He feverishly thought of moments past was he dead?
they had gutted him like a fish, how could this be.
Phoning the cover outside he said this was his play and
if It ended he was exiting stage left. One final voice spoke
that he knew the rules if he was to exit then he was to end
his existence, there were rules for a reason.

She was had it planned the recorder the fish wire and that broom,
saying her apologies to her dearly departed but it wasn't anything
strange those toys upstairs weren't only hers you know.
Calling over the intercom, "Lets party you, swear box was
blessed with over a hundred coins the tirade of vocal words she
expelled on the air waves. He recognized that expel of vocabulary
as that person he ended not so few hours ago and confusion ignited
on his features to what the hell was going on in this place.

Stepping in palpitating haste he descended in slow motion, not
with the vigour of what was replayed earlier in the night.
"I killed you once old man I'll do it again,
But fear was expelled this time not courage of the **** like before,
He took played his fingers on the wall to find the switch.
No longer did it enlighten the surroundings, he was in darkness,
and then before him he stood, but he cant stand he had gutted him
and no one comes back from that.

"Who says I'm dead, your just a poor excuse for a mummies boy
go on cry ya little...,

Then in haste he lunged at the oldd man, not thinking straight.
fear and anger eclipsed ratinal thought as he sang his blade into
his skull. Cold eyes stared back, then he realized It was a trap,
He felt it but it was not as he thought he would have felt his
skin screamed out in tears of crimson. A sword was visual
through the front and back of his own self. He swore at her
knowing his time was moments away. she spoke from the dark,

"Its not this that's going to **** you, remember what you found
in the bedroom,

"Oh come on lady just plunge the blade in again I cant move,

But she didn't listen  as she bludgeoned his face with it, different features greeted with each impact till his features were just blooded and
he no longer moved anymore. Her face was a collage of blood from
those she had ended, holding her husband in her arms stroking his
remaining hair. Kissing him on the head she gently put him down.
Opening the porch door she spoke out, "I have ended this playtime
I am the queen of this house, the others are still, static you going to
end me now?

"Rules are rules I'm sorry but I must leave you now,
"Congratulations for winning your life,
"Sorry you lost whoever pasted in the game,
"Know if they had walked out they would have been dead,
"Rules are rules,

There was silence, then on the doorstep she rested her bloodied hands
on her knees and tears of fear, of courage poured out.
She was the winner of this even though she felt totally lost.
Sirens were heard in the distance and she just sat there still....
2684 words wholly poo... this is my longest most difficult write to date.. thanks to all who take the time to read it there maybe a few grammar mistakes but I`m so tired it took three days to write...
Poetic T Jun 2016
Footsteps that were past tense echoing
upon me like thunder, then the lightning
fell upon my vision and it went murky
in sight. I was within an eclipse of darkness.

Hands clapping on my thoughts urging
me to arise from this ill-gotten slumber.
I was tied as if to be burnt on the stake
of old, raised on feet I gazed in confusion.

A rope levitated my throat to upper reaches
just enough for breath but I gazed on a
room of discord. All was as if anger had taken
form and expelled itself on the surroundings.

With muttered echoes I spoke, "is anyone there,
But my words fell like dead leafs from autumns
cold voice. I waited upon the mirrors reflection
bouncing back at me of incoherent thoughts.

"Hello Peter, how are we today,

Confusion was my playmate as I considered my
reaction to this voice of my solitude. I recounted
the many repetitions of who I had angered in
my life. And on me I struggled under there weight.

"There was a little called Alice her hair like sand,
"She was the apple in the eyes sweet and beautiful,
"And you took that all away, away from all she loved,

Karma had stewed for so long I could smell it on my
conscience, and I knew that my end was but echoes
of memories away. "I know who you are, technicalities
were my weapon of choosing to those ill fated in meeting.

She was one such one, and there were a few before her.
But I retired from that form of endorphin rush. I became
placid like the lonely tormented sheep around me.
"I'm was a good little boy, no need to take this further,  

But like a sphere once you take that first step you'll
end up at the beginning once again. I saw myself in
this dilemma, not as in this scene but others playing out.
And within those few thoughts I felt what was karma.

As I felt so warm at peace with this action, but then the
reality swept those lingering dreams away. I was dying,
A replay of what perspired in past memories but not her
me in that place. "Karma always finds you,

They were his last words, I don't know which father
brother friend they were. But now they had felt the
lingering sensation of expelling life. Would they
keep it secluded or would they become lik.............................
Poetic T May 2016
It was the children I tell you,

"That was my last moment as a free bird,
"Now I sing behind caged walls.

They were there in the moments of my spiral of despair,
I first heard them, saw them when I took the bottle.
Counting them like sheep,
1 sheep,
2 sheep,
32 sheep more.
Then I stopped momentarily.
The world was a mirage of my thoughts as I threw the
empty bottle of whiskey on the floor. Lets spin the bottle
see where it lands, I watch it rotate on empty odours.
Then it lands base up, I stare into the white emptiness
above my head and see nothing. Fluke of the spin I thought
till my eyes descended down.

"Hi Elizabeth such an old name, for such a young soul,

She must have been no older than ten, OK, the tablets
are making me see things I thought in my mind?

"No Elizabeth there right here,

Partly dissolved white stones linger in her palms, why did
she do that? and how did she know that these were buried
within me. I thought for a moment then asked?

"What do you want from me? why would you save me?
"I was ready to leave this place to sleep in oblivion,

"Were not letting you go yet, we have things for you to do,

"Why would I do anything for you child?

Because I'm not a lone,

"Around, around we go, while were here you'll never go,
"A tablet will never fall, a wrist no blood will kiss the floor,
"You'll hear us whether night or day,
"We'll visit you in slumber and seed your dreams what may,

"Why would you do this,

Then the world became a spin cycle and It was the 90 degree
wash, I woke up sweating, my clothes dishevelled.
I was clasping onto a empty whiskey bottle huddled onto
it like it was a favourite teddy from when I was young.

"Jesus that was one weird whiskey educed dream,

Getting up I noticed what was a jingling sound in the base
of the bottle had I put a ring in the bottle again? I looked,
my skin shuddered and my eyes widened as I saw what
must have been at least forty tablets laying in recesses
of the bottle. I turned  my head to the floor throwing up
what whiskey still lingered in my stomach,. What the hell
had I been thinking?

Footprints so many footprints in a circular dance, and two
more just static in the centre, I looked at my feet I still had
mine on I throw them off in haste, or was it fear? I measured
them in size to mine and they fit like gloves a perfect mould.

"No, no that was just a messed up dream,

"It wasn't our Elizabeth,
"Who the hell ar......,

I wake up again my clothes dishevelled but this time
an added bonus blood, what the hell happened I
thought. I checked myself over and to my amazement
none of it was mine which left me to the more panicking
thought who's was it and where had it come from?

******* I feel sick as I assume that this is one
persons hardened essence now secreted on my being.
I shower and then dry off, I run to the toilet as I *****
multiple times, I cant remember ever eating that?
Where had I been? how long had past in missing time.

I just binned the evidence there was a communal burning
bin. I waited till it was dark, I knew one of the  lights was
temperamental at best so i waited till it failed...

"Come on go out,

I thought aloud, then like a fading star it did the usual.
Flickered and like an ebbing star slowly died out . I ran
like it was a race for life, I'd put lighter fluid in the bag
and threw it in.

"I missed,
"I missed, what the hell,

The light flickered on again I was out of the reach of
its view and noticed another come towards the flickering

"O' crap o' crap,

Thoughts collapsed like dominos in my head, then he picked
the bag up and all I heard was, "Messy ingrate cant even throw,
Then like in slow motion it glided like a wingless crow in to
the fire. Within moments the bag ignited like a phoenix he lit up.

It was like nothing I had seen before he had stood to close to
the fire when he'd throw it soaked in liquid it went up as well
as him the surprise on his face was intoxicating i watched as
he danced the tango of death.

Then I snapped out of it fumbling to get my phone,  but this
moment passed and he was lifeless smouldering on the ground
I could smell him cooking slowly. I ran inside, grabbed my phone
again to ring the police.

But I looked down and it was still recording.

"What I cant remember pressing that,

"We did it Elizabeth,
"So you could watch your work over and over again,

"Your not real, your a child,

"O'dear elzabeth if that's true then you did this all,

I rewound the video, wait there was more than one?
I watched each of them horror spread like an extinguished
Sun as darkness consumed it. But I felt myself smiling,
I looked in the mirror and they were there all of them.

Counting them like sheep,
1 sheep,
2 sheep,
32 sheep more.
I had closed myself in the bathroom, locked them from view, it
wouldn't be long now. I awoke again, sluggish to my surroundings.
I was again in bed my clothes as the night before, holding a *****
bottle empty and Ii looked slowly and there were 31 pills and a note
on the side.

"We left one in so you could have a good sleep,

I threw the empty bottle and clinging note into the fire, i could
hear that song that I first heard. "Nnoooooooooooo, "No,
I ran for the kitchen for a knife, then I heard a knock at the door?
Within moments it was off its hinges and I was running at them
knife raised, I thought death at last, but instead 10,000 volts I felt.

Awakeing i heard voice not the childrens but others,

"Is anybody there,

A hole opened and two eyes so caring looked inward,

"Hi Elizabeth, your in Hardy Oaks mental asylum,
"We saw your tapes, your a poorly girl it seems,

"It was the children I tell you,
"That was my last moment as a free bird,
"Now I sing behind caged walls.

The hole slides shut and then I'm alone, but
they are here with me I could scream, but I just
watch then encircle me, and sing their endless lullabies.
Poetic T Apr 2016
Could I see in their eyes, as I clean up this momentary
lusting, for their inner demons to released this way.
I had visions of them shouting "4,

That was going to need a ladder and I hate heights.
Well up I went in slow motion, I saw the spaces between the
claret splashes in frozen moments of nothing. Now just a coat
cold and unwarming. From up here it looked like an
abstract painting I called it "echoes of relentless madness,

It was another call out this place off a million lights  
only a fraction were braking into havocs grasp. But when
their final instant came, till it was a single moment or an
eternity in seconds, the end result was the same.

I wore a fresh suit, each being deflowered within
moments. Others lives were centimetres from mine.
They were with me through out these moments, then I
threw them in the bin like a one night stand. I left them
behind , no reason to remember names.

This  one was different, the other one was just like a
water balloon of finest red had been tossed around the
room, this one...  Charred shadows of where like a wick
They had become a light in the darkness and consumed.

Not as much blood, just dry lumps of god knows what.
I breathed quickly, a hand print on the table slightly
scorched, but the hand print still visible reaching out.

This was more a scrap and polish like cleaning spilt
cheese now carbonized on the bottom of the grill.
A hot mind is not a good thing specially when a vent
of release givesthis pressure a release. I look at it and
think to myself? I called this one "charred thoughts ascending,

I once again leave them behind, this is beyond the
ordinary job. Knocking off for lunch i see the next
piece off where my work will take me. I see them
walking and in quietened haste I lunge and inflict a
flesh wound so some may think, but an artery I have nicked .

So gently I  grazed, wouldn't want then to bleed too quick
or to slowly for that matter. I abscond in my van, knowning
the call will not be long versed just another clean up
so many in this city of lights where I calmly change
each one. As to be repetitive there is no art form in that.

To be a cleaner and to see art where others only see death
or tears. I see a deeper visions the latest in the collection
I called them "Life running dry, this was an easy clean
up, but ill have to give it a rest i earned enough from the
clean ups to sit back and watch the world move by.

Till next my artistry is mused I will think of others that
have twerked my needing a suit hangs up, each with
the name of that creation. I can admire them anytime,
and just think of the anticipation that was needed for this
depiction of my thoughts and how they bled out.
Poetic T Mar 2016
I tied you to the boot of this stolen car, what a pile
of rust but beggars cant be choosy, you do beg but I
chose this place specifically don't worry I tied you
to an old fords car door,  let the fun now begin.

I put the peddle to the metal, I hear you screaming in
anticipation of what happens next. Got to love speed
bumps, 30, 40, 60 then I brake just before swerving
so you sail past then you fly. Screaming all the way.

"I found ford doors have the right weight ratio to land
door side up Skoda's, Audi,

"The mess of so many to clean up road pastry is not the
easiest to clean away, slinters in my fingers hurt like hell ,

They fly through the air I see them just before some with
eyes closed fear etched on the sweat dripping or is that
tears? I put a three pronged circle to see where they finish
up. Each has a consequence, red, orange and green.

"You land in the outer dam, out comes the penalty stick,

Not many survive that, as I am angry for ill landings a lack
off at least trying, I warn them but some just cry till I give
them a good few whacks. I know silly but I do little sound
effects "bang, bang, splat, then silence and twitching

"Bang, "I hate those that just linger and twitch die already,

Now orange that's ok at least the next one tried, but not hard
enough,I give you a two pronged choice, gouge your sight out
with a spoon or a fork "what at least I'm giving them a choice,
now they scream but some got ***** it must be said.

Some do it, see no evil you know what I'm saying hanging tears
of claret weep from there now semi vacant sockets, and still
they try to blink "look at me, as their head rise, but their still
staring at the floor and I prune the with but two snips. Some
survive others just clutch to a chest and like that "DEAD,

Now those that survive, well lets just say I am a man of my
word I put them in the car to the safety I promise, I talk to
them but understandably their not in the talking mood,
I give them water to hydrate and replenish lost liquid that
has others wise bleed slowly out, and some even say "thank you,

Now what can I say luck, skill, survival instinct but so few have
done it, like a four leaf clover they land in the pastures of green.
I jump up and down like a child at the fair who just won the
big dinosaur on the very first try, punching the air and a very loud
"Hell ye that's what I'm talking about baby,
Then kiss um on the forehead, lips are to personal for my profession.

I tell them what skills what entertainment for some as twisted as it
seems liked what I did, a few even asked for double or nothing.
But luck only goes so far and then the regrettably the penalty stick
came out, I do the sign of L on my forehead then their silent once again.

But those who sighed with relief, as I promised were released, at the
end of a gun mind you a bottle of water given gratefully drank,
then on their merry way, I bid them fair well and as that they never
Divulge this incident as I have their wallets, purses even email
you never no maybe bored and recollect our good times past tense
of course for we all must face what is inevitable,

"Life is moments, where death is a breath that will always last,  

But as is death, freedom is a fleeting moment, and a mind changes
like the wind different direction, different path. Trial and error were
key, things that mattered "weight, height, ***, all factors in the
end result of what is like a momentary freedom to the air then
realization as they descend to a finite moment of death.

I always picked those that drove, why easier to cover tracks of
what was perused in my desires for a unique way to challenge
others need to survive. To breath another moment to exist in this
time of now not to pass. But life is fickle and my fun must last.

I always made sure that they drank the water, a necessity of
what came next ever drop drank, if denied then you guessed
it, penalty stick then "Dam, I do love my sound effects.
But released those with sight no knowledge of their ill fate.

Those I killed in the drivers seat pick a place where
gravity would take president in this delicate manoeuvre
so that they would go through what was needed a accident
of fatal consequence. Then on to the living that was next.

Like jack they rolled down the hill till unconscious they fell,
this little automobile swerving,  ricocheting off boundary and
wall till wheels graced air and the reeve of the engine heard.
A little gift of what was left in the boot a full tank of petrol
and the lid so loosely covered, accidents do happen.

I did one more thing I doubt they noticed there cigarette
lighter engineered to be so slightly hot, just like porridge
to hot would be seen and felt, to cold and would be a waste
of battery not enough, but warmth enough to ignite an
accident in the back and I firework of flames birth forth.

Some exploded they were the best, while others tumbled
flame and wreckage spread out what a mess. I always chose
the location, never the same suspicion would fall and my
fun would expire and probably my life snuffed out in a
breath. always cliffs near by and wall was best.

Now I bid you farewell as other circles must be drawn.
New doors must be had, who will hit the bulls-eye or
who will fail the test. I'll try two doors at once spice
up life's fun a little who will hit green and who will
be the one who twitches and then "Bang, silence is best.
Next page