Originally Posted by dahlusion

There was constant throbbing, my lungs
exhaling hot pain, clumps of blood leaking
from my eyes; the split in my forehead,
overly pungent with dripping brain matter
and bits of human lining.

My captor was sneering & looming over
me, dissatisfied that I wasn’t screaming.

She brought one of her twisted-faced dogs
into the room, flashing serrated upper teeth
and a razor-sharp mandible:

it kept leaping at me, only to be pulled back
by a thick, short chain.

Still, I didn’t scream or shake or cower.

Even more dissatisfied that I wasn't suffering
emotionally, my female captor yanked my right
arm straight-out, just enough for her wild-eyed
beast to reach my fingers — the horrible dog bit my
forefinger off, down to the hand knuckle;

my freaky captor grabbing it out of the animal’s
mouth, handed it to me, demanding that I write
a poem with it in my blood, yelling: “You are
a poet of blood, write a love poem TO ME!”

As weak as I was, I took my chewed-off finger
& wrote on a piece of paper: Fuck You!

My captor screamed into my bloody face,
a scream that sent her fierce-killer-dog into
hiding under a chair. She took a razor knife
from her back pocket and, ever-so-slowly,
cut my face-skin off of my head, and holding

my face-skin in her hand, began stuffing it
into my bloody mouth, and moving my mandible
up and down with her hand, made me chew and
then swallow my face, only to hear me whisper:
“That was delicious, is there more?”

Suddenly, I slumped over and bled to death,
never giving her the pleasure of hearing me
scream, beg, or cry for my life; all the while
her twisted-faced dog was lapping-up my
yellow brain matter and blood from the floor.

Originally Posted by PoetsofBlood

LEGEND OF BLOODY MARY

Forever youth was her fort'e,
To breathe of beauty her sin.
A deal with Satan she will pay,
To possess a virgin's skin.

On the hour it is said,
As the legend is told.
She will rise from her bed,
To cleanse off her old.

Dark secrets run deep,
When black magik is the guide.
A maiden asleep,
Was self-assured suicide.

First, was the house staff,
Young beauties taken from their bed.
Their plea made Mary laugh,
For to wear their youth she bled them dead.

A bath of blood she would fill,
To bathe and to drink.
Four she must kill,
To fill the deep sink.

As her maids dwindled low,
No more innocent blood was to spare.
She sent henchmen in tow,
To fetch virgins to her witches liar.

Four by four they did come,
Maidens all lined in a row.
Sacrifice they succumb,
Mary's blood deed they will sow.

She painted her flesh,
With their crimson potion.
Her cup always fresh,
To drink the blood lotion.

However, her addiction,
Became out of control.
Her need for bio-elation,
Brought greed to take it's toll.

The whispers upon
The village did rise.
A witch's sure con,
Must have caused this demise.

The watchful eye of townfolk,
peered into the night.
For no fire did they stoke,
To hide out of sight.

In the still of the eve,
The henchmen surely came calling,
With ropes to conceive,
Of an abduction-apaulling.

Twin sisters they took,
From their beds as they slept.
They struggled and shook,
Held mute-silence was kept.

To Bloody Mary's!
The henchmen did ride.
With two virgin berries,
That lay side by side.

A half filled blood sink,
Mary lay in and wait.
Thirsting for the drink,
Waiting for her twin date.

Her virgins arrived,
Bound and thrown to the floor,
No longer deprived!
Then townsfolk bashed in the door.

They looked forth with shock,
At the bathing witch they see.
A bath of blood stock,
A vile beauty decree.

Before witch Mary was hung,
A curse she did carry.
The last words that she sung were;
Believe in Bloody Mary!

So if it's a bloody witch,
You long to set free.
Hold a mirror in darkest pitch,
And repeat 'Bloody Mary'-times three!