Knocking on death’s bleeding door

Why?

Wonder, curiosity, doubt…

Hoping my immortal vampire will be the one standing

Behind this door of flesh and blood.

Who shall answer this thunderous percussion, perhaps

the Grim Reaper in his black cloak and scythe

ready to claim another life

and take them beyond?

No! the horror of what awaits behind the door

Gleaming eyes

Bloodstained face

The smell of sweet acrid death

Treacherous long fingers grasp me,

Scared to death,

Not sure if this is the silent death I long for

or a Carnival of Souls put on display

I wonder what my display would say?

I’m snatched inside the doors

Fire blazes my every direction,

screams of torture or maybe some twisted pleasure

invade my ears.

Not knowing why I’ve done what I’ve done

Knocking on death’s door

Monstrous images invade my eyes,

melting flesh and smell of decay

Being dragged along the sulfurous floor

Clothes tore, dammit, my favorite outfit

trying to hold back the urge to vomit.

Daring was I

But my position has changed

My mind and body taking off in different directions

they are never of one mind, see my troubles

they boil and bubble, hoping to scar me for good.

My shadow assailants toss me before a throne of bone and flesh

time is no measure here, so it seems like an eternity

that I stand in his magnificent wake

I can't keep my dancing eyes still, how dull I must seem

There he sits

taking in his pain and torture,

yet, I hear nothing but child-like laughter

So there he sits and smiles,

taking in my naivety

Finally, he speaks, a voice deep and booming

I think I saw one of his minions take a dive

as stalactites tumble to the cavernous floor,

asking why are you knocking on my door?

For it’s not your turn

not your time,

to take your place by my side

seeing his eyes turn to sadness, I speak

I hear you calling out to me

beckoning with dreams of love and power.

but what have I done that you find worthy?

Then he turns and says,

Only you have come knocking on death’s door.