Down, Down

Into the unknown, faster and faster
Down, down, into places of doubt
To dark situations we cannot master
Into places no one warned us about

Coming, coming, that terrible sound
Noises we’ve never heard before
Unintelligible whispers all around
Moment by moment, more and more

We know not what comes, only that it is nigh
No more information do we possess
Just a powerful dread that soon we shall die
But when or how, we can only guess

This must be hell, nothing else can explain
The terror, the darkness, all the confusion
Rattling through the addled brain
It’s impossible to reach any other conclusion

Only hell holds such a perpetual wait
Leading only to more, frightened delay
We must be the damned, who repented too late
And here, in hell, we now must stay

And yet, wide awake, enough to discuss
What we don’t know and we’re able to curse
The fear of whatever makes its way toward us
If this isn’t hell, it’s something much worse

©2021 Kevin Trent Boswell 

This piece is part of the anthology of dark, horror poetry, called Out On The Killing Floor.

Out On The Killing Floor, by Kevin Trent Boswell
Available on Amazon

Photo by Louis Vizet

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Author: Kevin Trent Boswell

Kevin Trent Boswell is a thing that once blinked briefly in and out of existence. It made noises and gestures while it lasted. The exact nature of its demise is unclear. Some sources say it collapsed beneath the weight of entropy and time. Other tertiary evidence suggests the possibility that it was destroyed by a predator, an accident, or perhaps even by itself. The truth of the matter is unknown. Luckily, no one cares.

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