I will lay down my head to sleep
Beneath a canopy so deep.
Soft leaves curl around my face,
Covering me in red lace.
Sticks of trees protect my sides.
Perfect place for one who hides.
The sun peeks in between the red,
The warmth of sunshine on my head.
Red hot waves lap at the shore,
Bringing with it blood and gore.
Paradise has come to an end.
The Dead are right around the bend.
Death is their evening delight.
They descend with all of their might.
Florida will never be the same
Once it becomes part of The Dead Game.
THE DEAD GAME
Bring a little color to the white,
Cascade down the bricks every night.
Roses will soon bring red to the scheme,
Adding so much more to the scene.
Cape Cod July 2013_-60 (by jackfrench)
Sunset brings the night,
With it dark shadows.
Hues of red fill the humid air,
Followed by high-pitched howls.
Residents hide behind locked doors,
As tourists huddle in their hotel.
The town waits deserted and quiet,
While the dark forest rumbles with music.
Dignitaries fly in from around the world,
Their limousines line the wooded paths.
Guests mingle and laugh in the glass house,
Where lifelike glass statues watch them.
Beneath it all lies an undercurrent.
One of evil and despair.
THE DEAD GAME
Stand strong for me.
Your petals closed tight.
Face to the sun.
Hope in your heart.
Release your sweetness.
The perfect fragrance.
Let the dew quench your thirst.
The rain wash your tears.
Stand strong for me.
A beautiful fall day.
A pebbled path through the red.
Charcoal steps leading up.
Fantasies flow through my head.
The leaves lift off
Until the day turns dark.
I’m trapped inside
A red swirl in the park.
The rain trickles.
The wind cackles.
I flee for safety
On raised hackles.
The path is gone.
Night has come too soon.
The path is gone.
Lost in the full moon.
I’d like to be happy as a mouse,
living under a dotted mushroom,
giving me shade from the sun
and nourishment late at night.
My fingers touch my face.
They glisten crimson
in the fading light.
Red drops hit the ground
from my moist lips.
I feel parched.
A thirst I’ve never felt before.
I look around at the fallen bodies.
Throats ripped open.
Sightless eyes open.
I’ve become one of them.
The Dead Game
Red flows freely.
From the ocean.
Through the town.
Into windows.
Up the stairs.
Into your beds.
It sucks dry.
The innocent.
The sleeping.
It takes all.
For its own.
For its army.
An army from hell.
THE DEAD GAME
Kindle
http://amzn.to/1lKvMrP
Nook
http://bit.ly/1lFdqNj
