Old Nick's Complex
Once an urban nightmare, now masked in a concrete jungle
A reminder of the battle, the pain & constant struggle
Once a vision, the future, born from an artist’s impression
To avoid congestion, mankind’s ascension closer to heaven
No blood was spilt; the complex was built with manpower, bricks & mortar
Finished with home comforts, polished fittings & running water
The residents became the towns envy, smitten & smug
With the world at their feet & the stars written above
6 weeks later came the voices.....
Subtle at the start were the careful whispers
Bitter & twisted, the deeds they insisted
Old man jones at number Three was the first it consumed
He was weakened, alone, living in solitude
'I miss you Steven' whispered the voice of his wife
'When are you coming to join me from that life'
His heart in overdrive, his eyes leaked salty tears
At the sound of her voice which had been absent many years
From the kitchen he heard laughter, crashing pots & pans
A warm trickle from his nose, blood spots on his hands
Clutching his heart, shooting pains in his arms
He felt the world fade & entered the dark
Time had passed before they discovered his carcass
Nothing but rotted meat & fluid in the carpet
A sickly sweet smell settled upon the complex like a mist
The smell of rotting flesh, mixed with shit & piss
6 Weeks later came the violence.....
'She's a whore Jake; she's screwing your best mate
Taken you for a ride ever since the first date'
Jake lived with his wife over at number
six
Trying to deny his wife’s infidelity but the voice insists
'She’s a cheating bitch; you need to teach her a lesson
The kind to strike fear & leave a lasting impression'
Jake entered the bedroom clutching a steak knife
Staring at his shaped wife, he'd known his whole life
& something snapped, his right arm entered a frenzy
Slicing and slashing her body until she was empty
'You fucking whore, you cheating harlot'
Each slash he made, painted white satin scarlet
It seemed like an age, before the police arrived
& among the metallic aroma was Jake, eyes glazed, crying inside
6 Weeks later came the fire.....
Alice lived alone over at number thirty-seven
A devote Christian & firm believer in afterlife & heaven
She knelt in the middle of the vacant room, praying
'Please hear me my lord, please hear what I’m saying
The devils at work, I must purge with flames
To serve you my lord, to break unholy chains'
The whole room was rife with petrol fumes, her final wish
She closed her eyes, listening as the gas taps hissed
Then striking a lone match, her whole world turned white
As flame greeted gas & joined together in flight
The fire spread wild, engulfing all objects
Remaining residents screaming, leaving the complex
Days have passed, now a Smokey shell cleansed by the holy nation
But word has it, the artists back & with an eye for renovation
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