Based on my 2015 poem, Bequeath

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Christopher Young “Sinister”

Something wicked this way came
A beast with forty eyes
Clinging to the shadows as it located its fearsome stride
Ample mark set to bequeath
Bloody gums and grinding teeth
All set to chew the rind of mind beneath the matter, actioning the splatter
Lopping off each limb in turn and every way inclined to playing catcher
This decadent creature of stature undeniable
Was not the kind of nightmare we’re advised to ever wake from
The kind that waits until such time as sleepy eyes awaken
To tear apart our souls before it steals ’em to its lair
Heaven knows what takes place there
Best not spend too long a time on guessing
Skin disowned from bones with only hopeless groans as thousand island dressing
Stressing the importance of small children checking darkened recesses and shady corners
Beckoning its reckoning, while whispering in chill as it reveals
They’re getting warmer

Come inside
It did confide
And lowest tide then grappled up the blind side of my spine
Perched upon nape as it draped me in dread
Bored a cursed hole through reverse of my skull, then commencing to rape me inside my own head
Better off dead once it hooked in its talons
Pain was unbearable, threw me unduly off-balance
Down on my knees while it ground out the deeds to unbearable likeness of end to my being
Seeing is believing so I screwed my eyes shut
Attempted not to focus on the writhing deep inside my gut
Thought some happy thoughts
And, of course, it then devoured every one

Something wicked this way came
Its wicked game, my end of days
An endless maze of ways to perish
Only one way out of it
Throw in bloody towel and it would open up its bowel and defecate upon the rag, use it to gag me
Precisely what I didn’t need, to taste my own demise quite so exactly
Evidently, it desired to conspire timeless suffering
Hesitantly, I supplied it blessing
In less than the time that it takes a beast to blink all forty eyes
There was silence
It was eerie
Could still feel it
Ever near me

It came, it saw, it devastated
Patiently I waited
Demonstrated great devout
To shake this demon out of me
Sometimes I still feel its tongue inside of me
That ain’t no fun, believe you me
Would advise against it violently
However, sources claim that it is better the devil you know
Besides, each time I feed my monster, forty more eyes grow
I slacken off the leash once in a red moon just to let it feast
Beauty in the glut of eyes beheld in my own beast
Now, do come inside…
Your place
Or mine?

Richard Charles Stevens

Keeper of The Crimson Quill

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