Scarlet Dripping Shriek Maker

Scarlet Dripping Shriek Maker

A Poem by Jane Smith
"

Don't take this literally i'm not so mental as to actually wish to do this to anyone, this was just a piece i wrote out of boredom just for something to do. hope you enjoy!

"

    Your voice hits my heart like nails scratching the chalkboard

    It makes me crave to dig my nails into your skin

    to sink my fingers in the soft creamy flesh of your neck

    Engorging them in through layer and layer of your filthy tissue

     until I can clutch onto your  wet , hot throat

    I tremble at the thought of ripping it out and watching it pulsate in my hands

    I want nothing more than to feel the thick moisture of blood on my tongue

    taste the  bitter sweet metallic zest , as I gnaw that scarlet dripping shriek maker in half with my teeth

    Gulp it down,  fast , and loud , and feel your liquid drip down my chin, onto the ground beneath my feet

    And I want you to watch me slurp your esophagus up

    Eyes wide, mouth gaping trying to  let out a scream but silence is filling your breathe

    I shiver with delight imaging a fist sized hole in your hollowed out neck

    And at the image of you fading away ... dying slowly and painfully, jerking and threshing just as a

    sockeye salmon  caught on a hook, pulled out of the water,  and dropped on a grimy fishermen deck

    aching for a single breathe of air that you never receive

    But instead I sit here, in hushed rage unable to hear you sing another idiotic chorus of love

    And change the station.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

© 2013 Jane Smith


My Review

Would you like to review this Poem?
Login | Register




Reviews

Oh my God! Oh my God! someone please call the police quick. Jane you wacko! I thought you were a nice person! You said you only did this while you were bored, but if this happens when you're bored then what happens when you're in an exited state. OK! Ok! you say i'm just exaggerating may a mountain of a molehill, that this is just art that it absolutely doesn't reflect life, who you are or even your deepest darkest desires. But i'm now scared of you so don't call me back. any way it's the most vivid poem i've yet read. got any more scary stuff.

Posted 11 Years Ago



Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Stats

121 Views
1 Review
Added on June 1, 2013
Last Updated on June 1, 2013

Author

Jane Smith
Jane Smith

About
I am an aspiring poet, dancer, and a student. I recently started using the internet to share my poems so i'm new to all this. Read my work and let me know what you think. more..

Writing