A whole bunch of suicides
Filling up a pit
We’ll carve out the insides
And try to make it fit
All these bones are from the grind
Invisible man can’t get surgery
Unless the surgeon’s blind
Dungeon has open a butcher’s spree
Skin masks brew open wide
Psychopaths fly like swarming bullets
Hallways to the other side
Guess what they split ripcord pirouettes
It’s what’s comin’
Let’s not forget
Keep my chainsaw runnin’
And make it nice and wet
So when I put it in the bucket
Stronger the filth
This piece I wrote one night whilst viewing the new installment "Texas Chainsaw" (2013). I realized I never wrote any poetry in this style and wanted to take a stab at it. I know it feels very morbid, but that was the point. I tried seeing things through Leatherface's point of view, and this was the result, so I hope it doesn't freak anybody out.
Thank you, TheaAtherea. I know it's been more than a year since your comment. I have been lost in a lot of emotions that I don't understand and am not able to cope with. I don't like unlabeled things, I like to have a name or nomenclature to everything so I can understand it. So, with these emotions, which have nothing, no names, I am completely lost at sea, and I can only send messages in a bottle (such as this response). Again, thank you. I enjoy writing. It's all I have. Without my fingers and hands, I would be a damned ghoul.
It's good to see you're still around and writing.
This definitely has a horror movie vibe with a lot of great imagery, and you did well with this style.