The Exorcism Schism

 

 

 

Title art “Exorcism” by L.H. Grey.

 

 

Listen to Live Reading

 

 

Listen to Suggested Audio

 

Recoil “Shunt”

 

 

 

 

what’s inside of me
why am i feeling so haunted
been coming to this place for years
never felt quite so daunted
the trees are undressed
dispossessed of the air they once breathed
they whisper amongst them
and each time I try to confront them their branches recede

 

felled leaves crunch beneath my feet as i creep
and i wasn’t even privy until now to the fact that i was actually creeping
am i sleeping
conceding to dream beneath spectre gray skies
misleading their scheme
not so sure i much care for reprise
would it be defeating the object to cover my eyes
as i know just what’s standing to greet them
pluck them straight from the threads of their sockets and eat them

 

they could seize me with ease
snatch last breath from my lungs
could slice me in two where i stand
with a lash of their tongues
this place is no sanctuary
offers no shelter from storm
no safe haven to fend off the chill
not a solitary token of warmth

 

just icy cold fingertips set for embrace
can feel them right now
as they trace undressed flesh
in a second or less
every sin is confessed
only then, they commence their charade

 

inquisitive needles
reaching inside
threading dread through each fiber
of sweeping crossfire enfiladed
clutching nerve endings like reins as i flinch
reeling from every cruel pinch as they braid
feel bitter
betrayed
for i seem to have missed or waylaid the decree dictating to me it would pay to agree to this trade
no request for front row seats
for the sights i have seen
didn’t plea for untimely decay

 

need to get this out of me
have to get this out of me
this thick crude muck
this blackened sludge
begrudging each movement
before i’m consumed
and the bloody red heart in my chest is torn out and unjustly exhumed

 

’tis evidently aftermath of something truly lethal
each suggestion echo of a soon inflicted evil
tainted
the dust of my bones painted gray
while pangs of distress salt the flesh they’ve requested to flay

 

can feel their black coals on my flesh
burning foxholes through mesh
as they press, prod, provoke, clot, compress
undressing the corset
divorced without token of blessing

 

must retch up this scourge
purge it forth from my core
let it weep from my maw
like a christ
should i slaughter this lamb
then the blood on my hands
may denote of my own sacrifice
already bear the stigmata
thus appears no real choice
than concede to play martyr

 

there goes the knell
final bell
stark alarm to its tone
i think i can hear them right now
serenading with slow hands engraving my tombstone

 

i think…
i think…
i think i’m gonna
VOMIT…

 

you’re worthless – no warrant for mention – just a slab of rotting mutton – a punishment glutton – pathetic by every account – not an ounce of uniqueness – deserving of permanent burden and misery ceaseless – dare to do or don’t – as you are damned either way – nobody cares – and they all hate you – by the way – you’re nothing – deserve nothing – screams confer nothing – all concern was a ruse on our part – we were bluffing – precious few will mourn you – nobody will miss you – because you’re not memorable – in any way becoming – already destined to die horribly – we’ve read the ledger back to front you see – and we wouldn’t wish to be in your skin – feeble nondescript – unhallowed is the marrow from your hollow bones we’ve come to strip – you disgust us – and therefore entrust us to act on your behalf – bad move – though fair few from your last – as we’d love to see you suffer – and would pay a handsome sum to watch you shutter – as we usher you to duly come undone – weak – pitiful – emotionally crippled – the ripples of pain – soon to be doubled – tripled – we are never letting go – in forever telling woe – you can run – you can hide – we are already inside – where’s that god of yours now – where’s the hero of the hour – where’s the merciful power – could it be the scriptures lied – yes indeed – the time has come now to repent – for it’s all been a sick joke at your expense –

 

ENOUGH!

please…

enough.

 

 

 

greykeeper fusion headline

 

1 Comment

  1. This had me in tears. I’m a psychological shadow of my former self for various reasons and this hit hard. In a positive way because it helps me continue to see those precious glimmers of light in the suffocating darkness. Again, thank you for the provoking work and I feel the pain here.

If you like what you've seen & read please feel free to share your thoughts with us!

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.