Rest in Terror

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It’s coming to an end, my friend. I really did hate you, but now that I see you lying there, in your grave, I’ve lost that old animus. Would you please stop struggling? You are disrupting the moment. Now, now, no one can understand you with that rag in your mouth. Stop. Just . . . just be quiet.

This is my final goodbye to you. I can imagine you’re thinking that I’ll never get away with it. You’re right. Your friends will figure it out, about the time you don’t return from your visit here. But then again, they don’t expect you back for some time.

Are you afraid of the dark? I hope so. I imagine it gets very dark after I fill this hole with dirt. I suppose this proves you right about me. Kept treating me like some sort of creep, and now I am.

 

Toss the earth about,
the spade will make it quick.
Fill the void below,
and cover up the prick.

14 Comments

  1. Pingback: Rest in Terror — Tale Told | Fantasy Gift Sources: Book Reviews, Article Resources, News

      2. I’m struggling with using the F word in one sentence .of a poem I’m working on. “Who gives a ****, not you, not me” It could be F* ** or Damn. I really want to use the F word because I think it’s more powerful. Your thoughts?

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        1. I’m generally prejudiced against cuss words, but they exist because there is a need for them. I don’t know the whole poem, bit I’d suggest you have someone read it aloud to you both ways. Feel the way a stranger takes the words. The perspective may help.

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