Tuesday, June 25, 2013

The Predator's Progeny


No prison dispirits like lineage,
the bars manifesting as imparted traits
too like the beast who sowed my seed
in cruelty and disgrace.

He prowls while two unlidded moons
roll and plumb the dark for sheep,
for guardless napes whose pallor's
only half the treasure of their bleat.

The wise by which this tyrannist
now scours through prey like crackling flame
I've known since memory 'gan to etch
his savageries upon my brain.

Back ere cradle lost its use,
he lurched his toothy silhouette
into my room and left his mark
upon my pierced and weeping neck,

a foundation he failed not to water,
sprinkling the screams of mother and kin
'pon heart too spongy, piece-by-piece
feeding them to his sin.

Now, youth seems but a wisp,
a labyrinth whose horror I thought I escaped,
yet every day the mirror displays
more of that predator's bearing and face.

He skulks, his wake of vampirized husks
an affront to every value I hold,
but what is the good of abhorrence
when cast in the aberration's mold?

1 comment:

  1. You could submit this to The Drabblecast. They should do poetry episodes. They read Lovecraft ones during Lovecraft month.

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