I want to burn it all down
I’m not proud of it
But I must admit
I’m drawn to the destruction
Like a moth to a flame
The death-instinct deep inside
Driving down the highway
Passing the car crash
And turning my head
To see if anyone’s dead
It’s deplorable – this overwhelming urge
And I notice how it surges
And it’s like a scourge
The self-sabotage and the purge
That puts us on the verge
Of tearing everything down
Halloween is right around the corner, so I wanted to write something creepy. Here’s a piece of light horror flash fiction about a strange, rich old man and a young portrait artist. It’s about 815 words and has an estimated reading time of a little over 3 minutes. Let me know what you think!
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What is this beast that rises from the sludge?
My friend thinks it’s quite amazing
It’s obvious that I have misjudged
The beast’s insatiable cravings
It has swallowed my family whole
In one terrifying gulp
Now it will not let up control
Our insanity is the result
My skull is packed with worms
They slither and they squirm
But let’s be serious now
Let’s scamper in the streets and prowl
When the machines fell from the sky
I got a burning sensation in my eyes
The satellites crashed through our roof
And the pain of living was quite acute
The preacher told me God was dead
He’d supervised the killing himself
Then he stood up and declared
He was moving to a different realm
Religion is a system of cruelty
And the priests are the executioners
The church can no longer fool me
Of the terrible abuse that occurs
Let’s go beyond good and evil
Into the gray mist of the unknown
Leaving behind the crosses and medieval morality
That have provided comfort for so long
This priest towers over me; a blazing fury in his eyes
He foams at the mouth and tells me
He’s the Devil in disguise
Trust me, I do believe him – in the darkness of the confessional
His tales of deceit are utterly credible
And his wizened face is ancient and contemptible
Ghosts in this house make no sound
They are only around to watch
Flashing images of my mind
And extract memories from times
I dwell in forsaken chambers
They belabor the process of death
Let’s get it over with, we say,
Let’s kill these emotions during
The bright light of the day –
Instead of waiting for fire-soaked
Nights under harvest moons
And pastures of bitter gloom
Like I mentioned in an earlier post, I’ve been playing around on Instagram lately and having fun with it. I recently made a video of a reading of one of my recent poems that I wanted to share!
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Here’s a piece of horror flash fiction about grief and the scariest night of the year. It’s about 820 words and has an estimated reading time of 3 and a half minutes. Let me know what you think!
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