Nothing in the Threshhold

Nothing in the Threshhold

A Poem by Curiosity's Virtuoso

Poem about an insane murderer

My home was clean, that was all that mattered,
From the doorway to the attic never did dust flutter,
Germs cringed whenever my name was muttered,
And when strangers walked inside my home, admiring neatly arranged clutter,
There was nothing but blank canvas walls and empty silhouetted shawls,
The last time my chained feet left my dwelling, after the deadened brawl,
There was nothing in the threshold, nothing at all.

My wife, my darling, my dear,
How ever did she believe we'd grown so near?
For my diamond adhered to her was never out of love, but my own selfish fear,
A fear of losing a plan so consciously forming year by year,
Something needed to be carried out to satisfy my buzzing ears,
Oh how your doleful screams quenched my thirsting peers,
My dear, my dear.

And children oh how could I forget to mention thee?
The two of you, remember our play house built into that tree?
It was made for you, I handed out the key,
The night your movements surcame to me.
Do you remember what was said?
My dears, my dears.

Surely you recall your uncertain questions as you awoke in bed,
While your mother was slaughtered, starting with her lovely head,
Dripping pools of morose crimson red,
Don't fret my loves, you shall swim as well,
For my plan contains not only mommy, I just didn't tell.

I never used steel, no metal of any kind,
How sick would a caveman be to use something mined?
Instead a blade of saphire, sharpened to one of a kind,
A delicate trademark that was only mine,
It sliced thinly and without error, much to my satisfaction,
And so I bestow on that dagger my gratification,
Thank you my dear, thank you.

After my deeds were done,
I called the detectives, told them there was a man with a gun,
They appeared in no time as I recovered from my fun,
Explained my run, which they frowned upon,
I laughed and laughed and laughed.

Here I stood, caged and all,
Chained to familiar blank canvas walls,
In thick antiseptic barriers much too tall,
But nothing phases me any,
For I have already distinguished my shinny penny,
All alone within bars, isn't it funny?
How simple contemplations are valued such as money.

Children, your father is no sickly man,
He is not worthy of fitting in with this clan,
The only lucidity that keeps me sane at night,
Is knowing my saturated threshold is merely tinted with fright,
And nothing is visibly affecting it's appearance, even in exposed light,
Rest my loves, rest.

© 2011 Curiosity's Virtuoso

Author's Note

Curiosity's Virtuoso
Yeah, that guy was just a bit crazy...
Just a little =P

My Review

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Powerful. Brilliant.

Posted 12 Years Ago

WoW this is so powerful and deep, Love the flow of this it's amazing.
You write really well.

Posted 12 Years Ago

Genius! You have such a fluency with rhyming and tempo, both in individual lines and the overall stanzas. Great write!

Posted 12 Years Ago

Deep deep and so dark....You told the story in an interesting format but this is so dark.

Posted 12 Years Ago

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4 Reviews
Shelved in 1 Library
Added on June 12, 2011
Last Updated on June 14, 2011
Tags: insane, creepy, father, husband, children, wife, killed, dead, slaughtered, mental, excitement, crazy, scary, theshold, doorway, clean, nothing, odd


Curiosity's Virtuoso
Curiosity's Virtuoso


Hey there! :D My name is Kristen. I'm a 16 year old writer from Long Island, NY. Truly I like to think of myself as more of a poet than anything else but I also like writing short stories. I am alway.. more..