I want to view life escape your ever so beautiful eyes.
Watch the fear show its sadness.
I want you to suffer for the simple lack I have nothing better to do.
Hell exists within the empty vessels trapped upon this putrid rock called earth.
As the labyrinth is ever changing for all the wrong reasons.
So in pain we trust, and monsters and false idiots we worship.
Place your hand within the box and pray they will not strike.
Trust in the serpent, or die from the delusion that is often referred to as faith.
Simple tears, fractured spine.
I smile in the face of your death’s torment.
A reaper knows many faces.
A kiss knows unlimited deceptions.
Its poison is within its promise so may I intrude upon your demise to question
How does it taste?
Lenore Collins resides in North Carolina, where she writes poetry and fiction.
Her work is dark and often horror based.
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