Once a whore, you're nothing more

Frankenstein was the real monster.
Or should I call him Iago by name, more befitting of his betrayal.
And I, the unseeing Othello, have poisonous rumors spilled into my ear like the drunk king of Denmark.
Filling me with such rage, I cut all ties with the libidinous Desdemona.
Her debauchery is nothing but surprising, especially when she claimed to bind herself to no other.
Should I be astonished by such act?

"I am a black hole, Frankie"

No matter how much I try to warm myself,
nothing can replace the warmth a soul offers.
I am a vampire for knowledge,
thriving on the lifeblood of wisdom and insight
of another.
I consume all in my path, crushing bones to dust,
reducing humans to mere iota, a curse upon humanity.
I'm sorry, Frankie.

Haiku 2

Your lies fester, slow,
Rest your perennial mind,
They're coming for you.

There was darkness there and nothing more

You may wonder
why ghosts and gore
do not scare me anymore,
I'm more terrified of my mind
than anything else.
It's capable of destroying me
without uttering
a single word.

The grief that does not speak.

It hides, consciously visible,
a shadow too solemn for sight.
It haunts those who hear it,
yet, it does not utter a sound.
Its ubiquity tortures minds,
for it exhausts all forms of joy.
Its voices whisper from the walls,
macabre, taunting, perilous.
A tenacious monster,
drawing me deeper into its blackened heart.

A requiem

Seeping through the cracks, you're a poison in my bones.

You will not set me free until you rip open my ribcage and destroy me from inside.

Look what you have made of me.

A tempestuous fire raging in arid desolation parallels my disgust for you.
Once, I ran to you; now, I run from you.
I sincerely hope you get what you deserve.

This is not a haiku

It drips from ceilings,
It drips from unholy eyes,
God can't save you now.