Lit.Org - a community for readers and writers Advanced Search

Average Rating

(0 votes)

You must login to vote

Contains extrmely graphic scenes.

"You see my love, I need to steal
Some things from you to make this real"

His chisel finds another use
For sickening slitting staid abuse
She hovers still but does not stay
Then quickly tries to move away
He grabs her and he shakes her still
Trapping her against her will
His hand contains her cowed cry
His chisel arcs against her eye
It lingers as her eyes clasp shut
He smiles and begins to cut
Through the eyeballs optic nerve
Through the blood the vessel's serve
The cornea that locks it in
The eyes within their sockets skin
Are now prepared to be extracted
Once the chisel has retracted
Lasting through her tortured shout
He gently takes her eyeballs out
Leaving only lone flesh flaps
And moves them to their fresh stone traps
With face outraged in black distain
And holes alight with seizing pain
Then finally her holes stop crying
And settle closed in unsettled dying
Her lifeless body dull and dead
Her eyeless head with red blood bled
Lapping out the splits it pours
From the socket wells it draws
Escaping out onto the floor
Her breathing beating nevermore

Cognizance brings no relief
Slaying his naive belief
He holds his head against his chin
And still insists that she sees him
Alone inside that cloudy bust
Clothed in stoney cold mistrust
Instead he sees the evil dreams
Cast within the dead busts seams
In his head the dreams explore
Implanting scenes of morbid awe
He cups his ears and shuts his eyes
And tries in vain to crush the cries
Breaking but he cannot slow
This deepening daunting dark crescendo*
Peeling out with heightening zeal
Soft then loud and always real
Feeding, growing on his pain
Infecting insects fleck his brain
Reflecting on his lovers life
Driving in him like a knife
Thrusting through him like a stake
His eyes alive are shaked awake
He hauls his head up from his hands
To face the statues stark demands
Two eyes locked in to each other
Lover. hater, at each other
And as her glazy gaze seeps through
He realizes what he must do
To stop his soul from constant fearing
From her eyes of static staring
Blaming him for deeds before
Feeding still on Winters yore
Away from paths of optic scorn
A sculpter's chisel is withdrawn
It's deadly secrets kept within
It's silver skinning straightened grin
It smiles and begins to pry
Into the scribes beguiling eye
Opened wide it stays unblinking
Feeling just the chisel sinking
And as his sight begins to sleep
The sculptor keeps on chiseling deep
But even through his seeping slits
His whitened eyeballs weeping splits
Spilling out onto the floor
Leaving holes where they once saw
Gaping out to empty space
From his severed emptied face
Each light extinguished deep within it
Each casket closed with no one in it
His hands are raised from where they lay
And wipe away the milky whey
Hoping that he cannot see
His statue staring at him blindly
Sitting up from where he sat
Reading objects like a map
He feels his way around the room
The walls confining like a tomb
Until he stands before the cast
The haunted portent of his past
Fraught with tortured emptiness
Oblivious to nothingness
He hauls her head up with his hands
The wasted face of hers arraigns
And screams and shouts and yells and cries
Alone within her bone confines
He sits her head up on the table
Face to face but he's unable
to see the beauty ever there
raping through her wretched stare

"All the evil I have done
To you my love and only one
Was not of hate but only love
And only now can you dream of
What it was that made me ill
And made me sick enough to kill
The only beauty in my life
That ever shone was you my wife
Let me take you to my brain
And show you ghosts of maddening pain
They turn inside me like a screw
And tell me wicked things to do
I feel these things start to congeal
Twisting fiction into real
And then I'm overwhelmed by sadness
drawing to uncommon madness
destroying everything I see
With wresting thoughts of sanity"

And so he once again takes toll
Of each eyeball from its hole
And slides them both out, soft and round
A sucking, kissing, popping, sound
He brings the eyeballs to his face
And gently puts them into place
The eyeballs shrunk corrupted fruits
Meagre veins with deepened roots
The tendrils withered, dried and dead
Hanging out from in his head
Tracking webs cast from each hole
Deranging down from in his soul
Then quietly without a sound
He starts to push the eyeballs round
Until he's looking far behind
The evil confines of his mind
A deep and daunting premonition
Strangling views of inner vision
Malignant mind with pregnant pain
He sees the ghost inside his brain
It screams at him from in his head
Soft then loud and always dead
It bleeds into him like disease
And finally he starts to see
There is no end, there is no start
Only blindness in his heart
Only darkness in his head
Dark nothingness begins to spread
Like creeping ghosts of midnight's yore
And haunt him still for evermore.

I may be stupid but at least I'm not handsome.

Related Items


The following comments are for "The Ghost of Midnights Yore 2/2"
by Emlyn

Sculpter from Hell

A comment from your dad on one of my posts, reminded me I had commented on your work, so I went looking... and I am glad i did!

I cannot believe you have had no comments on this, everything I said about part one applies equally to this piece. One of my ambitions is to write stories in rhyme and your work is an excellent example of this.

I have always been an admirer of the poets who narate the old 'Rupert the Bear' books and while on a slightly different theme to them, you certainly have an outstanding ability in this direction.

I have not had time to read all of your work yet, but certainley look forward to doing so.

Have Fun,


( Posted by: ivordavies [Member] On: November 23, 2004 )

Add Your Comment

You Must be a member to post comments and ratings. If you are NOT already a member, signup now it only takes a few seconds!

All Fields are required

Commenting Guidelines:
  • All comments must be about the writing. Non-related comments will be deleted.
  • Flaming, derogatory or messages attacking other members well be deleted.
  • Adult/Sexual comments or messages will be deleted.
  • All subjects MUST be PG. No cursing in subjects.
  • All comments must follow the sites posting guidelines.
The purpose of commenting on Lit.Org is to help writers improve their writing. Please post constructive feedback to help the author improve their work.