Selected (Part 1)
I awake
in a thick cropse of trees,
meandering brook splashing nearby,
sunlight stabbing
through the canopy
in thick rods filled with dust particles.
Cracking my neck
I rise,
my skin
feels like its cracking off
and as I place my hands
upon a nearby boulder
I notice
I’m coated
in a brick red substance
that’s flaking off.
My mind screams blood
and something stirs within.
Pictures
of last nights escapades
flash and swirl,
and under it all
the taste clinging to my mouth
becomes familiar,
slightly acidic
with undertones of metal
quite distinct
and memory rousing…..
Flash….
body on fire
as I’m thrashing on the floor,
I feel the plates in my skull shift
at this point
its just another sensation.
Pores separate
to let coarse hair
encompass my body,
sickle like blades
extend through my fingers.
My mind drifts
sinking into
a lone spot in my head
becoming a spectator
in my own body.
Instinct takes the wheel
leading me through
the night enshrouded forest
I feel a rumble
building in my throat
and as the crescendo erupts
the symbiot realizes
what the prey will be,
something from the past
stirs in my little nest.
Feelings inspire rage,
rage leaps from the trenches
with one solemn goal
to feast on that soul
whom marred my being,
thought to be buried
in the cemetery
of my brain.
My beast digs for the location….
spots….
destinations,
frequencies,
the place to sink my teeth in.
Along a small stretch of road
a little darker than the rest
I pick up
on the desired scent,
it grabs at me
trying to draw me in.
I snap at the scent
it won’t control me,
but it will be snuffed out.
I head into
a standing of scrub pine
on the left side of the house
my target standing out
like I can see through the house,
sitting there watching TV,
quite unknowing,
just how I like it.
Crouching down
I dig my rear claws in
then burst forth
like being shot out of a cannon,
drawing towards
the side of the house
I cross my arms before me
claws extended.
As I strike the wall
it explodes,
beams shredding
like their made of cloth,
- the easy way in.
I feel the floor shake
from the growl I release
then brush
my shoulders free of debris
picking a large splinter
out of my fine coat.
He’s still frozen in his seat
covered in rubble.
Copyright © Mark Matthews | Year Posted 2009
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