Penny Poetry

Many of you know my penchant for horror/suspense thrillers in literature. This poem shows that side of me--as opposed to the marshmallow, Lisa Frank, cotton candy side. I saw that Stephen King once said, "Those of us who read and write horror are probably the ones who are most afraid and hasten our breath in the dark. Confronting these fears in literature is a way to control and release them."

YES- This poem is FICTION-Though I DID base "taupe flats" on a certain gal... but chances are it's not you :) If you're easily upset, please don't read it!

“…so that’s what happened?!”

Truth was never a consequence in your mind-

And my stomach boiled.

Except on Sundays-

Or talking to a friend.

Your painted face never buried your vice-

To those of us who knew too much.

Summer grew old-

And I discovered two halves

One divine,

The other dank,

Your disguise waned-

And my stomach boiled.

It was late-

The hour-

When your moments quit.

After I slit your throat-

That’s when I stopped caring.

When I strung you up by one foot and you were wearing your taupe flats-

They shone with gloss as you swung.

Back and forth

Back and forth

In front of me-

You leaked-

Dripping on my blue, unvaccumed carpet.

I pursed my lips and went for the remote-

And my stomach boiled.

On top of the record player were the cheerios-

Not in their box.

That annoyed me.

More than the slight

Swish

Swish

In the corner of my eye.

Now-Dismembered in red-faced rejections, you move in shifts.

Still - beneath dark soil,

Seething - beneath my skin.

So I run,

Tap, tapping on the pavement,

Until a whimper is,

And I – unaware, approach.

And there you grow-

A legume of indifference,

Without patience - Unless for you.

But now- my stomach lies quiet.

PR 11/20/2008

...If I freaked you out, sorry - BUT remember that there are MUCH more frightening things in the world........things like.......................................

...There....Now don't you feel better?!