Dark Poetry

Dark Poetry

Visions From Hell

By Steven K Mitchell

In the corner
sitting on my bed
I feel the thread
which binds me to this reality

Become taut

Soon
this world
will be far behind
vaguely remembered in my mind

The thread snaps

And on my lap
is a mucous green rat
with the face
of a cat

As in a dream
I throw the horror away
but what next greets my eyes
shall remain with me till my dying day

Over there
a tittering bat
perched upon a human head

Here beside me
a monstrous dwarf
fondling himself lewdly

Smells assail me now

First, the stench of brimstone
now, decaying animals
fish I think

Much as I smelled along the shore
before I was banished forevermore
to this shadowy world of evil

What is this world I have fallen into?

Surely that child with the dull gray eyes
cannot mean to pierce me
with that dripping lance
I think it best not to take that chance

This corridor
with it’s toxic smell
and greenish light
is the way to direct my flight

These carven figures down this hall
what sordid sights
figures of the night
and so lifelike

A young girl
decapitated

Here an old man has defecated
and eats it with a spoon

I remember my room

But that was long ago
far away

I must be insane

As the sickening visions rain
I feel no fear

Can it be that in hell all feeling is lost?

Then what the purpose?

Here the corridor divides

I must make up my mind
which path is best?

What a strange thought…
which path is best in hell?

Oh well, let’s take the left

A short way down the hall
I see crimson stairs

Looking up them I meet the stare
of a pair of lambent green eyes

The light is uncertain
yet I glimpse thighs

Naked and female

A delicate musk smell
fills my nostrils

Much as I smell when I visit the brothels
of my nebulous memory life

Perhaps she knows why I’m here?

Up the stairs I step
one by one
till at the top
I see a huge cave

The light is more shadowy than before
it first shows less and then shows more
so I know not what is in store
as I silently enter the cave

Eyes red and staring
burn holes in me
the occasional bodies that I see
are mottled, misshapen, deformed

Sill, I feel no dread
as if my spirit itself were wed
to the darkness and evil

Suddenly green eyes flicker
and there she rests
in a wicker chair

Long black hair caresses her shoulders
and through a scintillate creme robe
her body shows

Full and alluring

For the first time
I feel passion!

Consumed by lust and not rational
I boldly approach the girl

The musk smell fills the air

She rises from the wicker chair
left arm beckoning

Her smile is viciously evil
and full lips cannot conceal

razor sharp incisors

Do I dare venture closer?

Does the moth flee the flame?

I am filled with shame
yet cannot resist

So consumed with lust am I
before I desist I would rather die

Something I may have already done

We fall together as one

As full lips envelop mine
marble hands search and find my scepter

No I am no specter

For these feelings of pleasure
are no delusion
On this glossed stone floor
we reach the conclusion

While the gibbering creatures
come close as they dare

And burn my back
with their stares
She whispers seductively for the first time
and her words come out as a rhyme

“Now you taste forbidden fruit
you stab me with your lustful spear

and evil has it’s first root
as my master seeks to draw you near

if one more time our bodies entwine
before you can find the thread

when you awaken you shall be mine
and become his when you are dead!”

For a fateful moment memory returns

And though my lust burns brightly
I know I must strive mightily

To find the thread
which snapped as I sat upon my bed

I run back down the crimson stairs!

Hearing obscene laughter I do not dare
to look back for an instant!

Now I’m in the long corridor
and though my lust calls for more

I realize my only hope is to run on
while my mind can see

What my world
used to be

The end of the hall is in my sight
and there in the corner to my right

Is the rat
with the face of a cat

My eyes strive to pierce the uncertain light
for if I am to end my flight

I must find the thread!

There!
Above the strange child that bears the lance

That tiny string
my only chance!

I run to it and grab it
while the child seeks to stab at my thigh!

I sit alone
upon my bed

In my hand
a silken thread

What a dream I just had
and I pray to god on high

I soon let out a fearful scream
for there upon my thigh

Is a bloody rip
as from the tip

Of a lance which resides

In hell!

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