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They call him the King of Horror
He’s a walking Armageddon
A nightmare given flesh
Made to rot and decay
Just like everything else
I call him by the barcode
Written right on his brain

With an empty stomach and heart
There is no hope from the start
That’s how he was designed
To cut our world down to size

From the penthouse fat cats
To the downtown thugs
No man or child is safe
From his marrow touch
And his eyes of hate
They see no happiness
No truth or dare
Just bugs and cocktails
Waiting to be spilled
Till every drop is gone
He won’t rest in peace
Until life is dead

With an empty stomach and heart
There is no love from the start
That’s how he was designed
(God help our wretched souls)
To tear the world down to size
He’s cut the world down to size

Is he the King of Horror?
Can he crawl out of the grave
And into our dreams?
Is there no stopping him?
Will our minds be wiped clean
So we can suffer no longer?
Will we not even remember
How Nihilson came to be?
What does it matter?
We are who we will be
From one monster to another
It’s all a bad dream
That’s all we can dream
To be heard and never seen
That’s who we will be
If we don’t wake up and see
This poem is a tribute to "King of Horror", one of the songs in Splendid Fred Records' album "This Changes Everything (11 Songs About Climate Change)". When listening to the song, I imagined the titular King of Horror being a severely disfigured assassin, almost similar to Marvel's Deadpool but far more sinister. Also, the name "Nihilson" is a portmanteau of the name "Nilson" and the word "nihil". I originally wrote this back on February 5th 2018.
-The Dream

Pressed upon her throat
Was her inevitable fate, seconds away
From seizing
Her last moments she dreamt
Would be in the wings of tranquil.

Mercy departed from his soul,
Empathy ran dry from his eyes,
His mouth discharged a foul
Lust for blood,
Forming a wave of legions
Stumbling over one another to
Taste fresh meat.

Skinned of his morality, stripped of love,
He took on the ways of Asakku
And cloaked himself with sin to grieve his companion;
The great shield of faith once
Guarding his conscious,
But now weeps for his shepard
on the ground of rejection
For bound they are not.

Within the knotted brown
Sack dangling by his waist side
Lies her severed head,
Swirling in a pit of maggots
Counting her days
Till his will is made known.
ekelhaft May 2016
Get in your feet!
Pick up the pace!
Run, Runner! Run, Runner!
Run, Runner! Run, Runner!

Move your feet one towards the other!
Don't let yourself be slaughtered!
Run, Runner! Run, Runner!
Run, Runner! Run, Runner!

Run, with your numbed legs!
Run, with your shortened breaths!
Run, run while you still can!
Run, Runner! Run, Runner!

Don't trip or tumble over!
Or else it'll be over!
Look straight ahead! Don't look back!
Run, Runner! Run, Runner!

Oh no! He took his last breath!
Oh no! He tumbled down!
Oh no! He's coming! He's coming!
Run, Runner! Dead, Runner!

He took him by his legs!
He fell unconsciously!
Oh no! What will He do?
Dead, Runner! Dead Runner!

He took his head as an ornament;
He fed his carcass to the dogs;
He put his shoes as a souvenir;
*Dead, Runner. Dead, Runner.
Because why not
Pauline Morris Feb 2016
I was very cautious
I knew if I wasn't what it would cost us
I made sure the bedroom was perfect
I wanted MY romantic affect
I hung the plastic, then the curtains
Bed exactly in the middle, I had to be certain
Lit a few candles
Then sliped on my dress, and my sandals

I cruise the street
For my baby to meet
I pick him up at the corner
My heart beats faster, my body warmer
We go back to my house
Where we start to mess about
I lead you to my bedroom
We'll be making love soon

To my bed you are shackled
You have no idea of my feeling of hackles
Straddling you, and ridding you like a horse
All the wail your loving it of course

With you still in me, I bring out my toys
They are only for my collection of boys

They are bright and shiny
I will not treat you kindly
They are so sharp they can split a hair
And in their refection you just stare
You can't believe what you see
As the look on my face is pure glee

You body starts to convulse and thrash
Then with my blades I start to slash
I plunge my toy in
With the evilest grin
I love the squirting gushing sound
It's all so profound

I have loved all my men
That's why I let no one chase  them
Forever in death they are mine
I'm one of a kind

I slash him to ribbons
It's as fun as the dickens
He's still alive
And feels every vibe
Covered in blood
Our bodies fit like a glove

I slowly climb off top
And lop of his part
Blood sprays the room
Death will be here soon

I'm so happy I made it romantic
And taped up the plastic
I'm the Black Spider
I **** all I desire
Kaoz420 Jan 2016
Blood runs through my hands and stains the cold concrete.
As your heart rate drops with every beat.
The smell of fear and adrenaline arouse my sense like a woman's caress.
I bury my knife deep inside your chest.
I lose control with every slash, as my blade cuts away.
Now close your eyes while I carve you up
And hang you for display.

— The End —