Holy Thyn Hunted [Poetry]

In Poetry by FaythFuI1 Comment

Holy thyn Hunted.

Seeking Divine to feel real.

She hunts herself, attacking, like a virus of her own creation.

But she feels the Void, not pain.

The coldness, sucking away her human warmth.

No one can see the Void but her and the Divine.

Are they watching? Gods please be, because your creation has succumbed to the mania, the blindness, the woefulness of self-destruction.

She cries out – “See me, see my nothingness, this humanness, this frail structure, it is but a prison of your own making – I must be free, I must…be let out,” she settles into a whisper.

For knives and pills and ropes are insulting to her nothingness – the Gods have left, so she will find the Devils instead. The beings overflowing with everything.

They would make her nothing…Something…

Red light district. Broken, blinking neon echoes through elongated maws of alleyways.

Smoke swirls out of aged, toothless mouths. A sinister grin or two left chills up her arms.

A feeling. Something.

Building peered down at her in the darkness – she was a mouse that willingly lost its way, and she knew the predators came out at dusk – she hoped.

A hand on her chest, her back to bricks, neons flickering – a smile, one filled with razors so sharp, she already felt the bleeding, her heart bounding into her throat – a feeling.

“Has an angel lost its way?” A voice like venom whispered and she didn’t scream – she nodded.

The razors grew longer with upturned lips. So willing, so eager! Her waist was whisked forward, one hand clinging, another slivering to the back of her neck. She was so soft and smelled like honey and lilies – intoxication.

The world soon blurred, her body brought to an even darker place.

Eyes of reds and yellows sought her, like lasers, honing in on their target.

Hands and claws reached her in moments – seeking shoulder blades and wrists and hips.

They held her close, her chin tipped, eyes fluttering. Demons with human faces cackled and breathed her in, hunger and blood in the air.

The Gods are not here – only the heat of Hell and the hunted.

“What shall we take?” A unison of voices sang, off key and chaotic. They wanted what made her human; her blood, bones, bowels and bile. Her fluids, her arteries – the insides that kept her living, they wanted.

“T-take it, anything,” she stuttered, her voice breathless as a hand clasped onto her throat.

Silence spilled into the room.

She wants to lose her life? But we…we don’t like to take from those who are so giving! Why do this human such a service?

So let us take until her body wishes to give out – but then, in its stubborn humanness, wait for her will to recover. Until she can scream again, but we will never give her what she desires – release.

The teeth came – they sunk into shoulders and wrists, taking with a slow precision…calculating fading heart beats and labored gasps until the taking…stopped.

She was dazed and drunk on the buzz of being emptied, awaiting the fade…but it never came. She was given was seemed like mercy but was far from it.

She had sold herself to something far worse than the Void.

The Devils wanted her life to endure, so she may never meet the Divines. So she may never feel anything else but her organs sputtering to a momentary standstill before being brought back into the dark light of the neon afterglow.

The Divines did not save her and the scar tissue across her skin grew and grew, scattering thick, white callouses across malnourished arms.

She remained locked away.

Slaughtered slowly and infinitely.

Unholy, thyn Hunted.


  1. WOW! This was so we’ll written. I stood with her, seeing through her eyes, smelling with her nose and feeling through her body. Very well done. Thank you for sharing this.

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