Sta.sh
Sending Me To Hell:
I close my eyes, as the black smoke fills the air.
Incense burned to create a semi-choking sensation.
A tiny inkling of the perceived suffering,
But it is enough to make this difficult...
Next, wounds are carefully opened.
Patterns carved into the flesh,
Resembling the nine circles of suffering.
As each begins to form a red river,
An ocean pools beneath my stained elbows.
In the distance I hear the cackling of witches;
Accompanied always by the mad shrieks of those beyond.
Already they can taste the red wine that I ooze
And eagerly, their tongues wag; anticipating the feast.
Concentrate...I have to concentrate
My teeth grind together, as I force them shut,
The pressure causes my jaws to ache and my body soon stiffens.
It seizes up like an iron vault, my mind its secret mechanism;
Twisting, turning, seeking the accepted combination.
I can feel them now, reaching for me...
Tongues begin to lick at my open wounds,
Lustfully salivating unto my arms;
Their spittle stains the worn carpet,
As their teeth seek purchase in my flesh and bone.
Caught by the miasma of their tainted bretherin,
The demons within me begin to rejoice.
Pushing and straining against their eternal container;
They demonstrate the full weight of their hedonistic tendencies.
Openly, do they bare themselves against the lapping,
Faces forming admist the cracks in the drying blood.
Each twisted into a lustful grin of pleasure;
They personify the libido that I keep in check.
Now I can sense it, even admist this hell of pleasure; The gate before me opens wide.
Like light pulled into an empty void,
My spirit is drawn and cast into its cold currents.
All sensation of life stops;
Not a single breath to be heard nor word to be uttered...
Now, I must awaken. Quickly, before it is too late!
I force these eyes of mine open, a gasp of air filling me;
My chest rises and falls as I stand, barebodied,
With snow falling gently from the sky.
Like ash...
My breath fogs up before me and my feet are quickly numbed,
Yet still I press on, shivering, toward the spire in the distance.
No matter how many times I try to escape, he'll be there waiting for me.
So shrivelled I am, by the that time I reach,
That even he allows himself this feeling of pity.
Tenderly, perhaps as one would care for a sibling,
He wraps a heavy cloak around my chattering shoulders.
His skeletal feature, normally left impassive,
Shift into a mysterious and impossible grin.
"Greetings Soujourner, I am glad to see that you are well..."
-Chen Yuan Wen, 8th January 2013
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Every single paragraph, if not every single line, is just filled with the litterature of that of a professional. Using techniques that leave you hanging, but with enough hint as to what it is. Such as "Red river" leaving the idea of blood, but later on turning out to be "Red wine" instead for the witches. A very clever use of language Sir. (or Captain if you prefer)
The details of everything that you can sense, is more than enough to send the reader onto a journey into the pages where even THEY are able to feel it. And being written in first person helps it alot.
"Semi-choking sensation... percieved suffering." This line acts like a reminder, you are going to hell, and before you are allowed to enter its gates, you must get what you deserve. You must suffer in the worst possible ways before you die, so you will be prepared for the worst inside.
The metaphor techniques deffinately help to conjure the amount of pain that can be felt, such as "An ocean pools beneath my elbow" showing how much blood has been lost, death will come, painfully, but not before some torture.
The torture of not just physical pain, but mental too. Truely an agonizing imagining. The witches cackling and mad laughs, its as if I could hear them with my own ear as well.
The part I particularly liked was how you called your body an "iron vault", and your brain the "secret mechanism". It gives the picture of a robot, that does as it comands, but is unable to command itself to move, without the "combination".
The italics bring the story straight to the point, moving everything along, while the normal format just describes everything in that short, small moment. Showing how much pain and torture he can feel every second. So much to take in, in so little time.
The separate wide. One would think it an error, but looking at it, it stands out by itself. Making a statement, an emphasis on how wide the door are. Instead of saying "very wide" or "massively wide", this is very powerful in its own sense.
And at the very beginning, when he closes his eyes, I can't help but know, that he is adding to his own suffering. Shutting off one of his senses, making the pain, awhole lot worst. But this also makes one think, would it be more painful watching your blood pool into an ocean? Would it burn your eyes to see the things trying to devour you alive?
"Carved into the flesh." Is a sickenly beautiful line, saying is IS art. The patterns, the colour of red, I almost turned sadistic. This poem is the most well suited horror poem I have ever read, I'm sure lovers of not only Horror genre, but Angst lovers will definately love this.
Truely, a master piece.
Deffinately, I'll be re-reading this piece again and again.
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