07/08/2030 7:30 pm
Seven thirty disappears
From the clocks dirty gaze.
Undressing me with sullen eyes.
Beneath the glowing haze.
The bed sheets stink of filth,
And the frame,
It creaks and cries,
To the woman laid beneath my feet.
O, those glowing sullen eyes.
Creature is as creature does.
I've done my civil deed.
To cleanse the soil of straying souls,
and false divinity.
Laughter echoes from the baseboards,
Devils moaning through the door.
Yet in all this joy and pleasure,
I have slain this silly whore.
I have slain her in her sorrow,
Took the life from her design.
Now I lay here in my weakness,
From my promise, I resign.
I have made a deal with angels,
Yet I feel a tasteless sting.
I have murdered one of many sins,
With six more sins to bring.
Bring them down to Hell on Earth,
Then in turn, my heart, robust,
Shall return to days of holiness.
Through her death i've ended lust.
Now this room has turn to ashes,
I have dried it of its use.
Its a cave reduced to nothing.
Just an old and dead excuse.
I refuse to wait in silence,
I will toss her off the ledge,
From the window of my freedom cell,
From the heavens to the hedge.
This building creaks and howls,
Like the rejects it so hides,
It's a vibrant lying flurry,
That protects the waste inside.
Ill accept no pay for service,
Through my killing, sin shall learn,
Not to harbor devil's child,
In the House of the Yellow Fern.
YOU ARE READING
House of the Yellow Fern
Science FictionWelcome to the House of the Yellow Fern, a modern cesspool of scum in a newly formed world where old language collides with astonishing technology. Robotic prostitutes and law enforcement, pagan demigods arising from an alternate dimension, and the...
