Home » Poems » Mark Matthews » Selected (Part 1)

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.

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.