Thread: Escape: The Treble Chamber

In this room he felt full,
as if he swallowed the moon
and churned it into milk.
Inside
it felt slushy and warm.
He was expanded, overflowing,
triggered.

A little milklet
fell from his eye
and landed on her cheek.
He tapped it away with his tongue,
then pulled a long hair from her lashes.
She’s plump, he thought,
as he squeezed a vice around her edges.
He soared in her screams
while cooing,
There, there, dear, no pain, no gain.

The color red became her. Red ribbons
tied in her hair, around her toe and throat.
Pretty, but not perfect like your teeth, he thought.
If only you would smile,
you might express like candy,
finger food,
a happy taste of peppermint.
He took a bite.
The finger was spicy.

He ran quickly for his jar
to capture her shrills,
her prayers,
to preserve the flavor.
He struck a match and lit her photograph on fire,
catching the sparking embers inside.
Forever his. Always.
His milklets flowed.

In the mirror he watched,
his pale round eyes,
a trembling chin receding far back
to his core.
A large head stuffed full of brains.
A fine reflection, he thought. An artist’s tender soul.

He missed the moment when her essence rose
brighter than the sun,
as bright as her smile,
and as healing as a warm bath.

Really liked this, apple. I don't know if it was your intended image, but I saw a guy tying up a girl and crying milk all over her while torturing her. The ending to me was her escaping through death.

Absolutely loved the imagery in this one Sondra, it chilled me and angered me. Both strong emotions. Good job.

Oh my. That was quite disturbing. As mentioned, strong reactions. Whew.

Thanks for commenting, caelum, Cindy, and JB. I know it is rather graphic imagery.

it was written as a poetry challenge, the prompt being Escape

caelum, yes he was torturing her, but he really wasn't crying milk all over her. I was really just trying to portray how elevated his thoughts of himself. he was crying nurturing tears, like milk, he saw beauty in all he was doing for her and how kind the acts.. Her escape was through death.

I am wondering if the poem is just too bizarre and ugly to use standing on it's own, without knowing the idea for the whole premise is Escape. I could just invision people wondering why a poem like this would be written. Any thoughts?

I agree, it's not meaningful unless it's one's own world.

I am wondering if the poem is just too bizarre and ugly to use standing on it's own, without knowing the idea for the whole premise is Escape. I could just invision people wondering why a poem like this would be written. Any thoughts?

I don't agree with this thinking, Sondra. It is a dark poem, yes, but it was clear to me what was happening here. You reached in and grabbed an ugly, whirling moment of sickness, from the mind of a psycho. This is brilliant.

Forgive me Sondra, I read your question as in what could possibly come from this piece. If it would have some sense of purpose in its own context or as in you wanted an ethical opinion on its potential as an inspiration. And to follow in those lines, then for me it didn't capture the mind of a psycho, rather it alienated the psycho, which I'm not sure I liked from an ethical point of view. And honestly, when I first read it, I didn't know how to comment on it. After you shared why you wrote it, it made more sense to me.

My dear Sondra, this is one of my favorite pieces of all time and it needs no hints as to its meaning. You've captured the depravity of your psycho brilliantly and perfectly. The nonchalance of his actions brought home how truly disturbed he is. I've created quite a few sadistic and depraved characters, and I bow to you. You've managed to put disgust into print and make the reader cringe, which is no easy feat considering you have no personal experience to draw from. Exceptional work, love, triple kudos.

Hi Martin, i agree that it really holds no inspirational value. Mostly, it's just an imagined character sketch that I tried to portray vividly whether aptly or not. Martin, I'm not exactaly sure what you meant here . then for me it didn't capture the mind of a psycho, rather it alienated the psycho, which I'm not sure I liked from an ethical point of view. You don't have to delve any further into this poem if you don't want to. I always appreciate your comments and thought.

Cindy and Lisa, thank you

Your piece is powerful and it invokes anger and condemnation towards your imagined psycho. If we as readers somehow relate him to the real world, say articles in the newspaper or stories we heard of, and it makes us consider ourselves as 'better' human beings than him (or them), or at the very least we distance ourselves, then I fear we at the same time neglect our ability to forgive or to just try and understand what he might have been through. So that's what I mean by alienating, and ethically speaking, I personally don't see it as a constructive process, where I'm sure some would... I hope I make sense...

Brilliant poem, quite stirring.

Stomach churning, Hannibal Lecter came to mind as I read it, as did a book I read recently, 'Journeys in the Dead Season', part of the storyline is about a guy who kidnaps a girl and tortures her. I didnt grasp your intention in the imagery of him crying milk.