Sunday, 11 September 2016

Banquet Of The Damned...


Where I wait

Beneath your bed

Dust lies thick and heavy

A luxuriously

Perverse carpet

Of your desquamated flesh.

Each foul flake

Of your body's detritus

Sits well upon my tongue

A tasty reminder

Of your ever decaying state.


A groan

And your shape shifts above me

As troubled slumbers scurry

To warn you of my presence.

An impotent gesture

For already

The sinuous tendrils

Of my unholy appetite

Hasten to hold fast

And devour

Your squirming soul.

Exquisite .

A whimper

As the seeds of your discomfort

Bury themselves deeper

Into the fetid treacle

Of your prickly dreams

Allowing a restless foot

Escape from its weighted trappings

To dangle tauntingly

Above my eager maw

And through this offering

Foul ecstasies are reached

As I pull your feeble form asunder

Dragging it greedily to my septic lair

Towards the ever-festering purgatory

Of Hells banquet.

Poem only ©  Copyright Lynn Gerrard


  1. Not under my bed. Hoovered yesterday, preferred cat place when it's hot. Always full with hair thus regular hoovering session unavoidable

    1. I have a feeling any monster lurking beneath a bed would soon vanish once a cat appeared ;)