Short story: A sick woman

 The tingling and fresh reviving feeling of a clean shave comes pulsing through my veins. I can pinpoint exactly where I cut myself. It hurts, but it's a good hurt. I desire the tasty pain of bleeding.
 When it happens, I like to dab my index finger along the wound. The fluid squirts outside the seems of my finger.
 "Oh!" I cry. I poke my finger in my mouth.
 "Mmmm!"
It's absolutely delicious. The salty taste. The metallic aroma. It's almost too much to handle. It's my red wine. Oh, but when I get a taste of someone else's blood, it's another story-especially if it's my dead husband's.

Another poem: Anxious

Anxious. Anxious. Anxiously waiting.
Awaiting the fear and terror that is to come.
Cold arms.
Sweaty palms.
All the things I'm scared of-
I'm anticipating.
It's hard to breathe with all this anxiousness-unawareness.
Yet, still I sit.
Anxious. Anxious. Anxiously waiting.

short story: the missing shoe

"Mommy, Mommy!"
"What, baby? What do you need?"
"I want a pet!"
"No, honey. Mommy can't afford a pet."

  They had just moved into a brand new house and little Jimmy had to make new friends, but he didn't want normal human friends. No. What human has human friends? Jimmy wanted a rodent.

"Jimmy, let's go, honey."
" Where we going, Mommy?"
"Out, Jimmy."
"Where's the box of shoes?"

 They hadn't unpacked completely. Jimmy had been barefoot. Everything was still in boxes in this creaky, Tim Burton mansion.
Eeeeeekkkkk!!!

 "Wow!"
It was a mouse.
"You'll be my best friend!.... Mommy, can we keep it?"

just a dream?

I'm breathing fast.
I have shortness of breath.
I'm burning up.
I feel paralyzed.
"please be a dream", I say.

Gasp. I wake up.
"oh good, just a dream"

I'm in a hospital bed.
I look around.
I look at the machines next to my bed.

He's there.
It's the reeper.
And he's about to pull the plug.

I Am My OWN Individual

I walk like you,
I talk like you,
I stand like you,
I even gawk like you.
I act like you,
I smell like you,
I breathe like you,
I even look like you.
I am an original.
What can I say?
I am unique.
Just. Like. You.

"Flush the Prey" 

Out of sight, out of mind.

Then comes up to bite you in the butt.

You're in trouble.

Get away from it.

Hide from pain and anguish.

Don't fear until it finds you.

Until they find you.

Foreign

Foreign to this town,
Foreign to this place.
Why is everyone here a resident to this place?
Why-how is everyone just average?
I'm foreign to this.
So foreign to this place.
Strange, queer, don't fit in.
Will I ever?