He Infected Them With His Insanity

He couldn’t help his need to slaughter,

It’s that sordid voice in his head, mocking,

At times it’s silent and life is so peaceful,

And others it’s rancid, he’s no luck blocking.

***

He sleeps during the worst times,

Living in his dreams,

Then when he wakes he sees the carnage,

And the laughter in his head erupts into screams.

***

Each kill is more vicious than the last,

Performed while dreaming, forgoing the mess,

Dreading the waking hours,

The cracked and broken bodies, prove of his faithfulness.

***

He can’t escape who it is he is meant to be,

As he wakes to body after body, still more,

Each victim buried under a mound of dirt,

Out of sight, so he can now ignore.

***

Until the next spree falls over him,

Leaving another piece of the broken puzzle,

Raw and bloody, lifeless,

Shot and beaten to a pulp with his gun muzzle.

***

What he is unaware of, is the fact that those discarded bodies,

In all their broken cracked beauty,

Are gaining their strength in the otherworld,

Coming soon to collect their death duty.

***

They band together in all their gore,

Digging with broken fingers, until they rise from their grave,

Zombie like movements, stunted cracked limbs,

Run while you can, although what’s left to save.

***

They rise together, naked, cracked and shattered,

Infected with your insanity,

You’ll now forever do their bidding,

They’ll destroy what’s left of your humanity.

***

He thought the voice in his head was horrid,

But these creatures he bred are so much worse,

He’s lost control, the bloody fool,

Now it’ll be his next ride, that long black hearse.

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Originally posted on Medium