bloated sigh

the pumpkin’s grin turned to a frown

when the body hung upside down

blood pooled after a swift downpour

the concrete pleaded please- no more

but the killer laughed as the hung body

let out a bloated sigh

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in sleep

trapped in a metal box

he was beaten with time

vocal chords severed from years of strain

limbs broken from the weight of pain

thoughts stained the walls of his skull

barnacles of brain matter fed off his fear

eyes salted with grief

would lull him to a false sleep

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mortal calabash

it was kicked across the field, through a brook and into a tree hollow

colors spewed forth like painting washed in the rain

two orbs, dangled out of sockets via a metal spork; the empty vessels for orbs saw little of a soul while living

a mouth, jagged from the slices of a switchblade, gave a crooked smile

ears carved off with an electric carving knife, fell to the ground

the killer stepped back to see, how difficult and disordered life can be

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Good Earth

She came from the ground, screaming.
He pulled her up by her long blond hair as one would carrots, the limp body dangling.
Unlike carrots, he slung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

He kicked open the barn doors, the wood screamed as loud as the woman.
Her body was thrown onto a table worn with age and hard luck.
Until now, for he felt some luck smiled upon him, given his new harvest.

His harvest was naked and covered in dirt.
With an axe he cut off her head, blond hair hanging- blond, dirty, and dry.
The head he tossed aside, grey glaze covered her eyes.

With butcher knife in hand he cut through her torso, rummaging through her organs.
Organs slid onto the floor as he continued to hollow her out.
He rethought his plan, picked up an axe, and hacked off her arms and legs.

Like a pig he roasted her on a spit, the fire laughed as her skin crackled.
The scent of the salt, pepper, garlic, cumin, and chili powder jumped into the air.
His eyes gleamed and his mouth watered at the thought of her meaty cadaver.

Hours after he started cooking, his meal was ready.
He doused the fire with water and opened a bottle of red wine.
Then he sat back and enjoyed his spoils, one bite at a time.

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Grey Mommy

A woman came to the window
as my son played between the glow of moonlight
and the dim light of a lamp.

I heard the scream and ran toward my son’s room
but he was gone.
All I saw in his place was the grey lady’s face.

I fell to my knees and cried
as the grey lady’s long bony hands
extended from her gaunt frame.

She held my face in her hands
and whispered you’ll never see him again.
Her eyes were sunken and rotted into dimples of decay.

Then a voice from behind me said mommy, “now you see her too?”
My son’s face flashed in my mind as the grey lady snapped my head left, then right
and my son said, “time for goodnight.”

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