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The Sanguine Lexicon of Punxundead

DR Leper Lupinstein

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Hello and Good Eve little boils and ghouls. 'Tis I, Dr. Leper Lupinstein, who extends warm greetings to all who read The Sanguine Lexicon. Contained in this volume is my growing collection of twisted poems, horrifying short stories, and other grim literary works for those with an appetite for all things morose and depraved. so for those of you who possess tender psyches, perhaps stories of happy little fairies and playful animals will better suit your needs. So i suggest you depart, lest your fragile minds of puppies, bunny rabbbits, and song birds be tarnished with blood-stained images of carnage and insanity.


Nighty Night!




long ago in a distant time when bodies piled in the mud.

when the moon shone dim and green like bile,

and the days were darker than blood.

the price of gas was the life of another, while the rivers

flowed with comfort.

the southern kind that brought liver damage and in the morning

put you under.

I stared into the blinding light till my vision had given out.

the infrared melted my retinas and burned into my brain.

so i couldn't see the drought...

of commonsense, inteligence, and wisdom to boot.

the same boots marched upon my skull

to try and render my argument moot.

the fools were of the masses and the wise were of the few

we danced and sang to dirges and elegies

round and round like dead rats in witches brew.

we laughed, we cried, we went insane.

we loved and adored the heinous scarring of our brains

as the greenhouse sky baked our flesh and gave us

bittersweet joyous pain.

We howled with cataclysmic mania as we burned from the acid


now the dance has ceased and we lay down on the shores.


soaking up the radiation and caressing our boils and sores.


what a day it's been, mindlessly reveling in these living horrors.

let's go to lay down in our dens because boogiemen and


ghosts of war wait for us outside our doors.

Edited by Dr. Leper Lupinstein
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All is silent. All is still.


The fog rolls in on that wretched hill. 


Atop is the house where many were killed.


From the grounds I'd eyed the highest 


window sill.


Still. All is silent. All is still


Yes, all is silent. All is still.


From the dead of night rings a scream so shrill.


Her ghost fades in from the highest window sill


and her hollow eyes look down from that wretched




once again, all is silent. all is still.


All is silent. all is still


As I stood atop that wretched hill.


I reached for the door and i felt the chill


of fear that gripped me, though I pressed


on still through some idle curiosity than


iron will.


But, all is silent. All is still.


Lo, all is silent. All is still.


Into the darkness, the moonlight had spilled.


And 'cross the threadbare floor i tread until,


I glimpsed a horrid, pale face in the hearth


that filled me with dread as I turned, but to spy


dry dust, like mist, as it swilled.


Now all is silent. All is still.


All is silent. All is still.


I climbed the stairs of that house where many were killed.


I stood at the head of the stairs, where innocent blood was 


once spilled.


That young girl, flung to her death, before lovers vows fulfilled.


O, all is silent. All is still.


All is silent. All is still.


I crept passed the rooms of children and the master chamber, which laughter once filled.


The oldest of them had took those that laid in their beds still


That fateful night bloodstained memories were instilled.


but, all is quiet. yes... all is still.


All is Quiet. All is still


I had climbed he stair to the dark citadel 


of the maiden i spied in the dusty window sill.


a dark room, like my soul, regret had filled.


All is slient. All is still.


All is silent. All is still.


behind me a scream so sudden and shrill.


turning I'd seen the hollowed eyes that filled


my heart full of fear and my body with a chill.


her hands Grip my throat before, "Welcome Home Will"


Now all is silent. All is still.


All is silent. All is still...

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There once were two sisters named

Dorris and Rosaline.

The older was horrid, while the

younger malign.

Two little terrors lived with mom and


in a beautiful town house

as ungrateful, spoiled little brats.


From the time each had learned

how to walk.

They ran about making trouble

and screaming filthy talk.

Now, mother and father, how they

had tried to raise the girls up to

be dignified.


They left doctors dumbfounded

and a nanny's hair set afire.

More and more did their games

fuel mom and dad's ire.

Until one night all were invited to

a party at Mr. Dahl's.

The girls snuck gin and were drunk

and started a heinous brawl.


Mother was shamed while father's

temper... inflamed.

Such acts could not be forgiven.

So, he had the two beaten with the

end of his cane and put the girls

on permanent restriction.


"I hate them!" pouted Dorris,

"I hate them. I do."


"I wish them dead" Rosie sulked,

"and i pray it is soon."

Oh, little Rosaline, that wicked

little tot.

She thought as she schemed and

schemed as she thought.


"Let us kill our parents." said the

devilish little fiend, "while they

are asleep in their beds." O, how

that evil child beamed.

Dorris, though older, was never

too bright.

With a grin she said, "Let us kill

them tonight!"


My, how they squealed!

My, how they laughed!

How danced with the torrential

and thunder claps!


The girls, they waited while going

over their plan of brutality.

Until darkness fell and all was still

except for the outside storm's


Rosaline was clever and Rosaline

was slick.

With a mere two pins... the door's

lock she had picked.


Through the halls the sahdowy halls

the impish duo crept looking for

implements of their parents untimely


Armed with knives the two had scurried

to the master chambers.

silently, swiftly they had hurried.

At last they stood at the head of the bed,

looking down at their victims who would

soon be dead.


Rosaline stood and bit her lip, while

tightening her grip.

Then, all at once they brought the

knives down.

Father stabbed in his Adam's apple!

Mother's throat was slit!


Grunts and giggles!

Laughter and howls!

They mingled with thoses ringing


As those two cruel and unusual

little murderesses took their parents

precious lives.


Then they had gutted them, Rosie

smiled with glee.

She screamed "this is it sister, we

are finally free."

They played in their blood and thrown

entrails all around.

It was a danse macabre of ultra-violence



But, then the oldest stopped for but a

brief time.

For in a moment of clarity... thought came

to mind.

Rosaline carried on while Dorris sat on

the bed.

'I had killed them!' she thought, 'because of

me they are dead!'


Indeed, she had killed the only people that

loved them since birth.

The ones who provided many things, no

matter how much they were worth.

Those who were forgiving at even when those

two were at their worst.

But, it was they that had took them from God's

green Earth.


Dorris went over to young Rosaline,

now covered in gore and having a smashing

good time.

Dorris embraced her accomplice to their crime,

but while Rosie smiled warmly against Dorris'

breast, she felt Dorris' knife sink into her spine.


Rosie lay dead upon the floor, Dorris hung her

head in despair.

Dorris had gone, shut the door behind her and

hung herself from atop the stairs.

Edited by punxundead
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Woe the day when knowledge abounds aplenty to the point of idiocy. The gluttons of knowledge shall fall to the dark age of intelligence while the dim shall shine forth a light of wisdom...


'Twas all in a vision one tumultuous eve under the black veil of the torrential storm. I tossed and turned and broke in cold sweat as the terrible dreams unfolded in the depths of my subconscious mind. O, how multitudes suffered under the burden of it's genius and those who went mad from the deluge of intellect believed themselves gods equal or greater than Jehovah. How they sent forth winged beasts to set the land and sky aflame, while they bled the seas of it's blackened blood on the shores of shattered glass.


Metal creatures marched across the expanse. belching. coughing. The haze and smoke that filled their lungs blotted out the sun that the rains would come to melt the Earth. Forests of olde became jungles of stone and the plains turned to a desert of steel where the seeds of confusion were sown. As the information spread like a festering plague, so conflict had followed. For no man was to ever be wrong and all wrongs were right, but only one fact out of many was to stand the victor as the blood was shed and truth bearers caught in the crossfire.


I watched as man and woman and child tore at each other like dogs. Rabid creatures. Murderous Fiends. All of them, Crusaders of Thought, fought valiantly for their selfish causes to prove themselves infallible. Stones were hurled from the bellies of armored dragons, I saw corpses scattered from the flash of their flames. i felt lead rip through the flesh of my limbs and tear the bones of my chest.


When I had awoke, shocked and awestruck, I contemplated this play by play. I looked out at the cityscape of this Gilded age and thought of what other before my have seen. Did they see a vision of what was to come? I asked of myself as I reflected on the chaos of which I vidi still. O, man, seek knowledge but, never indulge for your bright-mindedness will lead you to ignorance.


...Woe the day when knowledge abounds aplenty to the point of idiocy. The gluttons of knowledge shall fall to the dark age of intelligence while the dim shall shine forth a light of wisdom

Edited by Dr. Leper Lupinstein
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The flames danced violently as the old man warmed himself in front of the hearth of his cozy log cabin. His loyal, long-time comrade, Conrad the Saint-Bernard, lay down by his master's feet. 'Twas nearly 30 years from the day the gentleman decided to build this domicile of tranquilty and solitude to flee from the hustle and bustle of the outside world. Here, he had lived off the land and gathered game while basking in the glory of Mother Nature and feeling closer and closer to God time would pass. He loved the feeling of independence and relaxation.


It was his joy to live the life of the survivalist, as man had done eons before him. The morning sun would greet him every morning as he bathed in the fresh springs and went about his daily toil.  The warmth of the fire, the bright moonlight, and his canine compatriot by night were what made the old man's life complete. Yes, this was the life, this was living in his eyes. 


It was here that this good man would spend the rest of his life. Every night was always peaceful even despite howling wolves in the dead of night every night. However, tonight was different... silence had taken over out the night air. The high winds rattled the shutters and flew down the chimney's shaft to whip the fireplace into a frenzy. Before that very fire, the man sat and read his Bible and took in everything down to each verse.


Time and again the man would fall asleep in his chair while Conrad curled up by his chair. Sometime during the night, the man was awakened by a sharp, abrupt bark by the large, fuzzy canine. The bark was then followed by a throaty, guttural growl while the dog's eyes had been fixed intently on the door. "Conrad,"  the  old man groaned, "it's just the wind ya lamebrain dog." It was then that a cry in the distance had broken the stillness of the windy night, it didn't sound like any animal... but, it didn't sound human either.


Whatever that was, it certainly had his attention this time. The man took his rifle from off of the mantle and also put his side arm in his pocket for good measure. The dog still had been locked onto whatever was outside waiting in the shadows, while the old man approached the door slowly with his rifle cocked with a fresh round in the chamber ready to kill. He raised his gun as he swiftly swung open the door to fire at anything that moved in his direction.


Conrad, like a living blur,  sprinted passed the old man.


"Conrad! No!"  the old man screamed. But, the valiant animal charged off into the darkness. Barking, snarling, and growling slowly faded as the man watched Conrad trample off into shadows to find what was out there. after a brief stillness there came another cry, but it wasn't the same as before; but, rather, the frantic and painful screams of a dog being torn from each tendon until all the rest was silence. The man had slammed the door to his house and locked it before he fell the the floor and waited for whatever might come through that door.


Time went by and the old man had dozed off for hours, but when he had awoken he had seen the door was wide open and the fire had gone out. He felt a sinister presence in the very same room that soon let out an angry, yet sadistic, growl. The sweat had beaded on the old man's face as he slowly began to turn around to face his unknown assailant. When he had turned completely round, he breathed a sigh of relief as he had seen nothing. Perhaps it was from the shock of losing his friend and now his mind was toying with him. He had turned back around in his comfortable chair only to see the black hulking creature for but a second before squeezed the trigger...

Edited by Dr. Leper Lupinstein
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Three months had passed since the infection had wiped almost a quarter of Earth's population from it's face. Sheela had buried her husband nearly a week ago after the sickness had taken him. "And then there were two." she quietly whispered to herself as she tended to her ailing son. Johnny, laid on the dingy king sized mattress in the middle of that cold, dark garage that they now called their home. 


The ramshackle living quarters was the only safety they had managed to find far from the cities... far from the scourge. Still, the disease took Sheela's husband and she knew it wouldn't be long until her son would follow; infact, the sick feeling of knots in her stomach and the heavy spirits told her that today could be the day. All the while, she reflected on all those precious years with George. They had known each other ever since they were little children, it was amazing who they clicked despite their naiveté on relationships. it was as if God had given one to the other since before birth.


It wasn't until she was going off to college that he had made his last minute proposal to marry him. She recalled how time had slowed down and at how anxious he had looked on one knee with sweat just starting to bead on his forehead, until she answered him... yes. Oh, how those eyes lit up and like a flash of lightning they shared an intimate kiss before she boarded the plane to go follow her dreams. It was after she had gotten her Associates that they had tied the knot with a lavish church wedding provided by their well-to-do parents. 


It was a perfect day for a wedding, as there was nary a cloud in the sky with a cool summer breeze that billowed over lovely flowers and fresh green grass. She reflected on the beautiful Byzantine hymns from the priest and the chanters. Sheela Denker was a Lutheran before her conversion, as were her German parents; but, George Makarios had been a lifetime parishioner at Saint Spyridon Greek Orthodox church with his Greek father, Marius, and Russian mother, Katya. She remember how they both teared up when exchanging their vows and then the fun after party.


After that, there was the birth of Johnny and his baptism followed by the happy years of their perfect marriage. However, on a day like any other, reports were all over the news about a viral outbreak that had killed thousands overnight in many 3rd world nations. Sheela grew weary as breaking news flooded tv's across America by the day and getting progressively grimmer. Her husband, was the least skeptical of them, until the day it had reached the western world. Britain had been thrown into chaos and within a matter of days, the infection would reach the states. 


A State of Emergency had been issued and quarantines set up to try and isolate the virus. Any who either seemed to weave around and gibber or even bear the horrible boils and sores that accompanied vomiting blood, scratchy coughs, and horrible dysentery were taken away from their families and friends to a room full of the dead and dying. It was then that after a bitter fight that the two decided to take Johnny and leave the city and go out to the country to their summer cottage where they knew the disease had little or no presence.


But upon arrival, they had seen that the place had been ransacked and looted by others looking for food and supplies. They couldn't stay there... so they had kept with the little gas they had in their SUV, occasionaly stopping in the smaller towns to get help from any locals that were still alive. It was in one town that George had decided to look around for survivors, only to find a lone infectee that was dying from the plague and driven insane from what had overtaken him. 


The crazed man attacked George only to be taken out with his .357 Magnum. Unfortunately, George would contract the pathogen and begin uttering nonsensical proses that were far to incoherent to even begin to decipher. After about a week, they came upon the very garage that Sheela awaited doom in as she ran a wet cloth over her son's blackening and festering face. The warm tears streamed down her face as she slowly realized that this was his eleventh hour and that she would be next.


Her son awoke with a dry cough that startled Sheela as she put her arms around him. "Johnny, it's okay go back to sleep now." Johnny continued to hack and gough until he began convulsing and blood emitted from his lips over her back. over and over she rocked him trying to maintain a warm smile repeating "it's okay, it's okay... mommy's here, baby!" Shaking. Twitching. Choking... and finally came the rigor mortis. There were no last words... not even a 'good bye' or 'i love you mommy.' Not even, 'mommy please make it stop' or, 'Mommy kiss it and make it better.' There was only the gagging and anguish of her only child. Sheela kissed the sore-ridden, pustule infested face of what was once Johnny. All she could could do was scream out into the night air as the darkness of the shadows cloaked the landscape like the ebon cape of Death. 

Edited by Dr. Leper Lupinstein
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Hush child, hush... listen and hear.

Hear the voices in the shadows

of the things that you fear.


Hush child, hush... utter not a breath.

For they will find you and it will mean

your death.


Hush child, hush... in the darkness

they wait.

The ghosts in the darkest corners

seek to seal your fate.


Hush child, hush... never scream,

never cry.

Lest you be butchered as you gaze

into their glowing eyes.


Hush child, hush... or surely you'll 

be dead.

Never to see the light of day...

Never to rise from your bed!

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Her eyes from the shadows.

Her eyes in the fog.

Her eyes in my reflection.

Her eyes like those of



Her eyes. Cold and dead.

Her eyes. Like stone.

Her eyes grip your heart

with terror.

Her eyes are that of a 

basilisk's stare.


Her eyes, in the darkest 

corner of your room.

Her eyes, in your darkest

eleventh hour.

Her eyes, in the darkest

depths of your mind.

Her eyes! Her eyes! Her

eys! Her eyes! Her eyes of 

the darkest power.


Her eyes show no mercy.

No sympathy, no empathy.

Her eyes are the 

harbingers of your death...

the last thing you'll ever see.

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*clapping* dude, you are so good at writing, i love reading these they are super sweet, in fact im following this topic now XD anyhow keep it up dude!

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Listen my children! make 

haste little ones! For I've

a tale for thee.

'Tis a terrifying little story

that's quite grim, gory,

and ghastly.

Come in close, we must 

speak softly, that the

spirits doth not hear!

The night has fallen, the 

fog is rising, and the 

midnight hour drawest



O, children didst thou

hear that howling in the


That song from the

beast among the trees

that fills thine heart with 


In the wood there lurks

a creature who is man 

by day, but becomes a

blood-thirsty, murderous

wolf by silvery full moon's



I'm told last week, one 

fateful eve, it took a 

boy from his bed.

The next morn the 

child's corpse was

found with entrails

exposed and without

a head.


Many heard his

screams and cries 

for help, but none 

ventured out to his


They only listened to his 

bones breaking and the 

fabric of his flesh as it'd 

been frayed.


The creature showed no

mercy or compassion for

the child.

'Twas his flesh that'd

been eaten and body

rent in twain...  a mangled,

crimson pile.


With each and every full

moon the beast claims yet


If not thou, then thy sister 

or brother.

If neither one of thee, 

then thine father or

beloved mother.


Now, run children! steal away

and please be thee brave.

Lest the beast doth claim thee

and send thee to early graves.

Rest easy little ones, but keep 

one eye open... open to that

wretched bog.

Beware what stalks thee night!

Beware the beast in the fog!

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(i figured i would write a horrorpunk song with a much harder edge)


I woke today and what 

did i see.

The bombs chewed 

the landscape.

the poverty and disease.

I was just getting ready for

work in an hour.

But the zombie

apocalypse came with

a meteor shower.


I taste the napalm rain 

and play in the nuclear


I bathe in the acid rain

and stay warm by the 



my humanity is sucking 

fumes and running out

of gas.

today i could be breathing

or laughin my last.

watch the populace fall

and the parasite 


back to the primitive with 

a cannibalistic feast.


I taste the napalm rain 

and play in the nuclear


I bathe in the acid rain

and stay warm by the 



i'm soaking up the 

supernova and rotting

out the brain.

walk into the graveyard

while man circles the 


this is your eleventh hour,

your two minute warning.

It looks like were in for an

interesting morning.


I taste the napalm rain 

and play in the nuclear


I bathe in the acid rain

and stay warm by the 


Edited by Dr. Leper Lupinstein
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Here's an intro to a book idea...


Morton James awoke from a horrid dream in his aluminum frame bed in a small corner of his dark 10'x10' dormitory. Cold sweat broke out in beads on his ebon face as his feet hit the threadbare floor. "Aw, man," he breathed a heavy sigh, "i don' know what that was, but that was some real nasty dream." It had been five years from the day that he had stepped foot in that dormitory of the H.G. Foster Munitions Plant.


Now, five years was a milestone, considering the conditions of the place. A job at the munitions plant meant you were paid much higher wages compared to the many other jobs out there at the time. But, it also meant that once you walked down that sickly, green-lit entrance and onto the factory floor... there was no going back. Which meant you could never see your families or your friends, until you were given leave by the management.


However, there wasn't a time that Morton could remember that anyone ever had gotten leave. Because, many times, people were killed... yes, killed. Morton remembered his first day on the job like yesterday. He recalled seeing a young man, who had just finished what little training he'd received, get both of his forearms smashed. Morton had never heard such high screams escape a man's lips.


He had gone hysterical from the pain and while other workers tried to help him, some mammoth-sized overseers with cattle prods halted them. The young man, with hanging and bloody limbs, then placed his upper torso into the machine as it slowly came down and the screams had ceased leaving only shouts of from the overseers for bystanders to get back to work. From that day foreward, Morton knew that the rumors had been true, especially after seeing another young man in line getting shot in the back of the head for trying to run back out into the sunny world outside. 


Even if the gentleman had been lucky enough to make it passed the tunnel entrance, he would have to traverse down a high, ominous hill passed more armed guards and dogs. Morton, though shaken by the experience, knew that this was all for the survival of his family. And there he was, now five years in and lucky to be alive among the few that stood by him for as long as they did. He opened the door and walked down the dark hallway out into the drone of metal machines, the heat of harsh flames, and the shouts and the screams and the grunts of workers. it was just another day at the H.G. Foster Munitions plant... otherwise known as War Machine.

Edited by Dr. Leper Lupinstein
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There was a boy named Lucien de Belleaire.

Who was viciously attacked by a raging bear.

He played in the woods one afternoon fair in

the darkness part which mother 

said to never fare.


I once knew a girl named Anne Fleet.

Who bled herself out on white cotton


It's up the road... not 'cross the street

but, she got it all wrong and went 

too deep.

while little Lucien de Belleaire was

viciously attacked by a raging bear


I'll tell of a boy named Daniel Scout.

who had played with father's gun and 

dashed his brains out.

His Father should've hidden it

better, no doubt.

But, Daniel shouldn't have been

snooping about.


While little Lucien de Belleaire was

viciously attacked by a raging bear;

I had heard the young Anne Fleet

had bled herself out on white cotton



I met a little girl called Erica Braun

who went skating on thin ice and 

fell through and drowned.

She played all winter morn laying

trick after trick down.

But a landing caused the ice to break

and she died under there without a 



While little Lucien de Belleaire was

viciously attacked by a raging bear;

I had heard the young Anne Fleet

had Bled herself out on white cotton


And then, there's that boy, Daniel Scout

who had played with father's gun and

dashed his brains out. 


I remember a lad called Josef Klein.

He fell from a cliff and destroyed his


He layed there paralyzed near the 

Rhine until the wolves came out that

night to dine.


While little Lucien de Belleaire was

viciously attacked by a raging bear;

I had heard the young Anne Fleet

had bled herself out on white cotton


And then, there's that boy, Daniel Scout

who had played with father's gun and

dashed his brains out.

Woe to young Erica Braun who went 

skating on thin ice and fell through and



Now, there's a woman called Reina Smart.

Who listened well and did well and was far

set apart,

from all those others who from this world

did depart.

Because she listened to her conscience

and followed her heart.


And then, good children, take this to mind.

stay good children and never go astray,

lest you be sent early to the divine.

Edited by Dr. Leper Lupinstein
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-This entry is more on the softer side, but still really scary. It's a song like a dark, haunting lullaby of sorts.-


Darkness decends... the light

it doth end.

'Tis time to rest again.

Pray your souls be kept from

evil, or that the LORD take 

you should it be your end.


Hear the still night's melodies 

as i sing this lullaby.

Drift off to sleep on your bed

of shades through the

starless midnight sky.


Rest your head on blackened

clouds in the soft embrace of the 

moon's light.

The wolves sing their nightly

canticles, yet this ode...

'tis for you tonight.


Lo! the voices of the dead

sing their mournful tune.

A song of life's swift passing

with it's pleasures and



Escape into recesses of

your mind so dark and


That void where the fabric

of your dreams is woven

while you calmly lie in 



Sail away on seas of shadows,

fly on the wings of wraiths.

Dance in fields of nightshade

before the light of dawn

doth break.


Run with creatures of the night

amidst the dark and misty 


Walk among the graves of the 

departed and the soft night

air's breeze.


Lay upon the cool grass under 

a blanket of fog.

Listen well to the laughter of a 

young soul who drowned in the

nearby bog.


Vidi well! look upon the horizon

for the early light I doth spy.

'Twas quite a dream, but now 

make haste, lest you delay 

and surely die.

Edited by Dr. Leper Lupinstein
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  • 2 weeks later...

-This children's song is based on a nightmare that some little girl had recently seen. the very sound of it painted quite a macabre picture that served as the catalyst for this gory tune.-


The Crimson Clown has

come to town from out

of the ghostly fog.

He's come to turn the 

little children into tasty



Day or Night. Rain or Shine.

he comes around at 


you can't hide! you can't 

hide! He's coming after

you tonight.

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This one i want to call: "The Penitent". It follows a man in his last hours as he reflects on his life and recalls his sins and mistakes. Which, as the title suggests, brings him to repent....

Here i lay alone, upon the edge 

of the abyss.

No family, friends, nor even

a stranger... to none shall i be


The light doth slowly fade, whilst  

mine body's growing cold.

Ay! here i lay alone, reflecting on 

days of olde.

I recall the days of my youth. 

care-free. indulgent. wreckless.

I was filled with drinks, passion, 

and fire.

belligerent. foolish. restless.


'Twas mine own desires that were

to be met and all the rest be


I sought to have more than my 

peers and prove myself a man.

years went by and my pride took


I grew to be arrogant, brazen, and 


my lust flared hot whilst my words

went cold.

I'd blood on my mind and no 

love for a soul.

I'd defiled beds and broken many 

hearts; all for the respect of


Yet i nary had a drop of respect for

any of mine brothers.

I began to my demons emerge with

the passing of the days.

I grew much older and all the more 

foolish as i was set in my ways.

The flesh would scream for mine idle

hands in hours i should've prayed.

The children of lust, Lilith and 

Ashmodai, would emerge from the 

shadows to play.

Belial would beckon with strong drink

and indulgences while Mammon would

promise gold.

What ho! i behold a shape in a dark 


Woe is me! 'Tis Azrael who cometh

to take mine soul.

The day is waning faster as i count

the hours 'till i slumber.

'Tis my last chance, I cannot delay.

I cannot put this off much longer.

The shadows creep higher 

and higher up the walls as i begin 

pray with mine 'ands folded.

This proud, enraged, and lustful

glutton awaits the Potter's hand

to be molded.

"O LORD," I cry, "show mercy on 

me for i am terrified and filled with


i say, "Father in heaven, my hour is 

nigh and i shalt not see tommorow."

I begin with my earliest of infractions, 

down to my darkest of 


"God, i've turned away from your

plan and love to abide by mine own


 "O Father," I sob, "i'd went mine

own way, than the way you'd shown

through Christ."

"Your Son through whom you'd taken

on flesh, to save Man through willing


"i'm weary LORD," through sheets of 

tears, i wail, "i'm burdened by these


"these sins that weigheth down this soul

and crawl beneath mine skin."

"Great mercy!" i cry, "the claws of devils

at my spirit! They are raking!"

"Come to my aid O, LORD and save me!"

"Post haste! Lest my soul be their's for

the taking."

"I've seen the error of mine ways and am

humbled from mine plight!"

"I accept you, O Christ, as LORD and

savior." I whisper, "take me now into the


I feel my eyes grow heavy as my heart 

is cleansed and lifted hence.

I shall fall asleep in the arms of angels

while the veil of death descends.

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  • 4 weeks later...

I called out to her but i only heard her screams.

From the dark of the wood as we ran

through night's coal black screen.

"Jennifer! Jennifer!" i called to her, "Darling, hurry

post haste."

Oh how the thing did hunger for us. oh how that

figure gave chase.


I looked not back for fear of what i'd see.

To see the horror of my pursuer... within

his arms, my ride to be.

'Twas only a day we would take a stroll in the wood

one last time before the frost.

Yet, we strayed so far and farther more 'til round

evenings shadows, we were lost.


I ran against the winds like on the wings of ravens

with every ounce of my might.

I escaped with my life, but at what cost? to lose my

bride that night?

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