Knocking on death’s bleeding door
Why?
Wonder, curiosity, doubt…
Hoping my immortal vampire will be the one standing
Behind this door of flesh and blood.
Who shall answer this thunderous percussion, perhaps
the Grim Reaper in his black cloak and scythe
ready to claim another life
and take them beyond?
No! the horror of what awaits behind the door
Gleaming eyes
Bloodstained face
The smell of sweet acrid death
Treacherous long fingers grasp me,
Scared to death,
Not sure if this is the silent death I long for
or a Carnival of Souls put on display
I wonder what my display would say?
I’m snatched inside the doors
Fire blazes my every direction,
screams of torture or maybe some twisted pleasure
invade my ears.
Not knowing why I’ve done what I’ve done
Knocking on death’s door
Monstrous images invade my eyes,
melting flesh and smell of decay
Being dragged along the sulfurous floor
Clothes tore, dammit, my favorite outfit
trying to hold back the urge to vomit.
Daring was I
But my position has changed
My mind and body taking off in different directions
they are never of one mind, see my troubles
they boil and bubble, hoping to scar me for good.
My shadow assailants toss me before a throne of bone and flesh
time is no measure here, so it seems like an eternity
that I stand in his magnificent wake
I can't keep my dancing eyes still, how dull I must seem
There he sits
taking in his pain and torture,
yet, I hear nothing but child-like laughter
So there he sits and smiles,
taking in my naivety
Finally, he speaks, a voice deep and booming
I think I saw one of his minions take a dive
as stalactites tumble to the cavernous floor,
asking why are you knocking on my door?
For it’s not your turn
not your time,
to take your place by my side
seeing his eyes turn to sadness, I speak
I hear you calling out to me
beckoning with dreams of love and power.
but what have I done that you find worthy?
Then he turns and says,
Only you have come knocking on death’s door.
