Peering Out My Worm Worn Eyes

A bit of Horror based Dark Poetry for those who enjoy a shiver as they quiver in yon grave's enclave of those slain by Serial Killers who think to have put an utter end to their chosen victims ...

Peering Out My Worm Worn Eyes

Written By Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn de Graham

Copyright © 2016 Marvin Thomas Cox

DBA: Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn de Graham

All Rights Reserved

As I gazed upon such garbled skies,

in peering out my worm worn eyes,

to see heavens without sign of light,

given way to most darkest of nights,

as claustrophobia gripped me sore,

clueless as to where I was anymore,

even this air, having lost its breath,

has now become as still as death.

I lay pondering how this could be,

where was the sky, blue as the sea,

birds chirping merrily in a breeze,

in fluttering above as they pleased?

It came to me as a stone dropping,

in a pond with a loudest plopping,

of ripples moving outward ever on,

in search of any glimmer of dawn,

to cause me reach upward in stride,

to find I was securely walled inside,

air taking on a damp scent of earth,

me a screaming for all I was worth!

My ears hear tamp, tamp, tamping

-- feet shuffle, tramp, tramp, tramping --

so far above my final resting place,

to leave me looking death in its face,

locked alone in darkest damp gloom,

a pine box now becoming my tomb,

where I shall rave madly, evermore,

food for worms who hungrily bore,

imprisoned in depth, six foot under,

my body a vermin's will to plunder,

gorging on flesh so rottenly rancid,

“'tis not enough pain!,” Is what I said!

… A conniving hope of gaining respite,

condemned here in eternal of nights:

Perhaps he will hear and dig me up,

torture me more in having his sup,

taking his ecstasy to heights unseen,

kill a man twice, unlike any dream,

thinks I lay in my grave quite dead,

clueless to what goes on in my head.

Awareness has not left my torn body,

-- decomposing though it is and snotty --

I possess all my faculties of reason

except to leave this hole for a season!

O' God do please let him dig me up,

chop me into pieces ever so abrupt

-- one last request I would ask of thee --

smashing my skull to no longer see!

Make him so aware I am still there,

murdered, not dead, bees in his hair,

tell him he is a lousiest serial killer,

entice him to frenzy's lust of thriller!

Let my spirit haunt him all his days,

to torment him in all his evil ways,

until that day he sees he is the fool --

a time of night when nightmares rule!

Nightmares of every crime to consider,

that murdering Cemetery grave digger,

a most sinister and cunning killer is he,

in Potter's Field buries victims for free!

May his life's end be the same kind,

of mercy he so withheld from mine,

to lie in this here Godforsaken hole

praying to be devoured by a mole!

Give him a thousand years to think,

of all the pain he placed upon brink,

of destruction his lust never wrought,

for a man's spirit cannot be bought!

And may he lie here within his grave,

the one he has made for me unsaved,

in pondering upon his lack of breath,

so dead but ever seeking after death

-- just as I know I'll never live again,

but hope for that chance, at Oblivion …!

(Written March 19^th, 2016)

Author's Note

This piece was written for my Dark Stories book, When Nightmares Rule & Other Riveting Tales Of Death, Life, & Religion ... I do hope you Enjoy ...

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

The idea of a skeleton pondering...looking up with worm worn eyes....love it.
but also hate it because it reminds me of something I have always been so scared of. And that is being buried alive...one reason I am getting cremated instead.
Ashes probably ponder as well.
Such a well-done piece.
j.

[Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn de Graham: Alive-n-Revived]

Thank you so much, Jacob, for reading the very kind words ... It is my plan (hope) also to be cremated ... I have no fear of lying in a grave, per se, but that s**t costs an arm and a leg, and money is tight ... LOL!
...

Marvin Thomas Cox-Flynn de Graham