Ayei Ibiang
@ayeiibiang080407
1 year ago

BEHIND CLOSED DOORS: Son Of The Devil

There's a shack across the street no one dares
to enter
Where inscriptions of profanity are scrawled,
articles of satanism its center;
Where flesh and bones meet barbs of metal
Her screams,
shrill behind closed doors,
and yet no one even cares to help her

Where the option of death seems to be better
But time and time again
he keeps teasing the grave from having a feel of
her soul
No, he wouldn't just let him get her

So If hell was on earth, it'll definitely be across
Her flayed body tortured until
all that was left of her was just this dripping mass
of blood
suspended high up with nails
His mutts,
slurping off gut and fat from the carving knife
left submerged in entrails:
The blob left oozing with the stench of putrefaction,
the rotting torso he impales;
He was heartless


We could only but watch his possessed body
get consumed by Satan
his tapered fingers an instrument of torment;
Steel chairs, cables and current
Jack stuck in an eye,
crowbars stapling a tongue to his bonnet;
He was hideous

A rare blend of human and demon, he walked the
silent streets stalking
The blandness of melancholy;
sadism stretched on his face, even when he did
no talking
A shadowy figure of horns and tail, the beast
behind the trees, lurking
His eyeshine pierced through the thick of trunk
and foliage,
he was watching

So we kept our doors shut, and aimed shotguns at
the fences
Cans of gasoline some metres away, garden forks
staked deep in the trenches
Handheld weapons in case he got past our traps
and defenses
A basement for cover,
stocked with kitchen knives, shovels and wrenches

Yes, of all these
we did to keep our fears out at bay:
Our addictions and insecurities,
the demons and whatsoever stood as bane
Our bloodlusts and cruelties,
the sniffing around for scents of pain
Son of the devil,
would he finally get to die or be reborn again?




***






Written by: Ibiang, Ayei Okoi
Thursday 17th March, 2022.
5:14pm
#Aï
#Nirclestories
#Poetry