Dark poems

Torture

Victim:
I hear...
My screams and howls of agony as they resound off of these chamber walls.

I see...
The blurred glares of the lights above me, tinted red from the blood in my eyes.

I taste...
The blood that flows from my severed tongue.

I smell...
The copper of blood,
the stainless steel knife in my captor's hand,
and the melting heat of the lights above me.

I feel...
The slicing pain of my captor's knife
as it slides through my skin and flesh,
and the fading of my heartbeat
as I slowly die on this cold, hard table.


Torturer:
I hear...
My victim's screams as they feed my insanity.

I see...
The victim as they lie on the table, staining their clothes and hair in a cardinal pool of blood.

I taste...
The rush of insanity as it holds me in its relentless grasp and pushes me to cut my victim's flesh till they cease their screaming.

I smell...
The smoldering of the blood that slowly bakes and dries in the intense lights overhead.

I feel...
Like this one victim will be enough, and I must continue to kill to feed this blood lust welling up inside of me.