A Haunted Heart

Prompt Day #122 Desecrate a haunted attraction. Terrify the costumed carnies.

 

I think you will very quickly see how this piece evolved from the prompt to a madman’s love poem to just sheer pain. But I love it. I love it even though it seems like there is no connection to the prompt. But…come with me on a frightening, haunted attraction as we ride into the dark places in my creativity. Please ensure your seat belt is buckled and keep your hands inside the ride at all times. I started out interpreting the sentence “Desecrate a haunted attraction” by imagining you hired a crazed, maniacal interior designer to decorate a haunted mirror maze at a carnival (are mirror mazes haunted or are they just scary because of all the people running through them with bloody noses?), I imagined him hanging intestines like garland. He’s so happy, like he is decorating for Christmas. Then of course is the “Terrify the costumed carnies” So, now the ride is ready to open and the costumed actors show up and Holy Shit, this stuff is real body parts! Meanwhile, carnival management gets the Interior designer’s invoice in which he explains his decorating motives. But as he is describing the reasons why he did it the way he did, it’s an enlightening experience for him. He realizes that the root of all his murders is pain. Severe emotional pain from broken relationships. So, I hope when you read this, you feel disgust, anger, sadness, heart ache and maybe, if I did it right, when you get to the end of the poem, you’ll realize that you just took a trip through a haunted mirror maze and probably got to see a lot of yourself there too.

 

A Haunted Heart

 

I hung intestines from the wall

To remind how fear can crawl

Deep inside where hope is stark

And madness gets its spark

I turned a skinned face inside out

For those whose vanity’s devout

I left the eyes so all can see

Just how deep runs one’s beauty

I placed a heart upon the floor

And it’s not beating anymore

‘Cause it’s been broken, beat and scarred

All because it loved too hard

I captured whispers in a jar

So their words no further mar

Broken souls and broken bones

Stung by verbal sticks and stones

I bound a hand atop this mess

So it can’t offer soft caress

And it can’t hold me from my rage

And it can’t lock me in a cage

Now let this tableau be my art

Before I tear it all apart

And leave my ghost to haunt behind

All of this that once was mine

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