Twisted Roads – Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

Winter comes again,

like a forgotten friend,

sore,

sour,

salty,

tasting this pain,

hot,

thick,

blisters,

licking at my marks,

disfigured lies,

deleted eyes,

whispering me a new name,

something dark,

from your cold heart,

then I’ll dig it out,

and feast on your soul,

I’ll make your flesh,

into a fucked up dress,

and feed the rest,

to the homeless,

nothing of you will I waste,

so fear me now,

for your date is set,

your end is almost here,

count the days with me,

count to thirty and you will see,

you,

will see me.