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The Thirst

by Gary D Holdaway 30 days ago in surreal poetry

A Five Year Old Free-Write

The thirst: it kills me,

Yet somehow I live,

Haunted, angry,


What Deity would send this curse?

What foul creature,

Angel or demon,

Could inflict...


Feasting on flesh is,

Bad, isn't it?

I no longer know.

I remember things from before:

love, happiness,


Now, each moment is suffocation,

My lungs,

They are dead.

As you will be.


Do not question my morals,

My heart, or my intention.

I have none.

I am the beast that stalks the night.

The lion of the darkness.

I know that you suffer,

But I don't care.

I... Can't.

It takes over.

The thirst,

It moves me.

It sends shivers through my spine.

Air through my lungs,

And blood through my veins.

Yes, I know suffering.

I know it too well.

Here I exist,

Endlessly in limbo,

Consumed by the unquenchable,

The untameable,


So I found this little gem in my Facebook Memories today… from five years ago!

I don’t remember it in the slightest, and it struck me as something I simply had to re-share now that I’ve developed and evolved as a writer. I don’t often write in this kind of way at all, (though below I’ve linked a rare exception) and rarely even write horror these days.

Maybe I should revisit my roots in the coming weeks and months?

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. Until next time…

surreal poetry

About the author

Gary D Holdaway

An avid writer from the UK with a passion for words! Whether I'm posting my musings to social media or creating longform content for the masses, You can bet I'm somewhere trying to make sense of this wonderful chaos we call the universe.

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