'A Madman’s Machinations'

*

He sits there,

Alone

In the soulless place

Where demons stalk the dank halls

And where men, long-maddened, scream themselves hoarse

Cackling, screeching and shrieking

Whether it is mirth that compels them, he cannot tell

Who would find such a precious thing here?

This is a forsaken place.

*

He sits, plotting

Twiddling his thumbs

His eyes haven’t been the same since he first set foot in here

They dart about, and tremble as he does

He clings to sanity

But only just.

*

He plots against an erstwhile ally

A traitor and a murderer

The Worm

The visions and the lusting

The painful longing

To wring his neck in his fragile hands

Or perhaps even chance a wand

Blast the devil to pieces

One day. Soon.

*

He’s a cunning one, this inmate

He’ll get out

And the moment he does

Wormtail shall be no more…