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The Trinity Conspiracy
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The human mind receives new information, processes it acording to its own information, assimilates and responds to create a new input. On and on it goes - constant input/..  
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Popular Poetry (Horror)
  2.  He knew not of himself...
  3.  Hell Bent
  4.  Wind invertebrate

by Mark

Tuesday, May 11, 2004
Rated "PG" by the Author.
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Recent poems by Mark
•  Cherry Red
•  Dagger's Edge
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•  Fields Of Melody
           >> View all 104



Down sombre byway leafy tree avenues, gust stayed hushful as I continued, house sentinels crave elements, tarnished slate eroded by natures lore.

Uhastly opening a gate, blistering paint which started to exfoliate, I floated with ambience up to the latched door.

Below the skirting mist hindered flirting, solidifying once more.

My fruit fermented, once melodic flesh would turn sour flowers wilted from a darkened power.

Silence nothing more seemed to break earthís sleep, nameless mocha sons begin to creep, further away from the latched door.

Vary spacious was this dwelling, which was even more compelling as I hadnít stopped to enter before.

A paltry statue trembled taking a thundery blow, my gentle kiss from passing mist.

Darkness full moon lies fair slowly I seep up a creaky stair, to where destiny will meet a pure victim fast asleep.

With a tuberous smile watching her swelling, so sensual, so compelling, I station for awhile.

Sheets slip from the resting place, permissive in slimy heat, I could almost touch her mystical beat.

Slowly lips lower, teeth elongate as one, appealing veins beneath soon to be feasted on.

Not even a squeal for a scrupulous meal.

Feeling voluptuous I caressed her mounds, feeling, tasting inner force slowly draining, until darkness frolic was all remaining.

Lifeless, a shell she would cease to exist, under the latched door once more, a flirting distorted escaping mist.

Solidifying into form, wings of passing flutter to another porn.




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