TEMPT ME

 

He’s back.

How could this be?

I should have known.

He will never rest easy.

Without me to torment.

Without me in his arms.

A door opens.

He tempts me with sunshine.

His hand reaches for me.

My skin tingles from his touch.

I turn away and

Run from his sweet words.

His spirit envelopes me with coldness.

He whispers promises in my ear.

He will come for me tonight.

He will appear in a new package.

I will be prepared and ready.

I will not be fooled again.

The Dead won’t win.

THE DEAD GAME

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A SIGH

HOTTER THAN HELL

 

 

Hotter than hell is their playground.

Beneath layers of rocks and dirt.

They wait for their day of salvation.

When they can ride in the storm.

They grow impatient for the invasion.

The end of life as we know it.

I can hear their cries blowing in the wind.

The whispers brought forth from below.

It’s time for us to gather ammunition.

Before our poor town is nothing at all.

THE DEAD GAME

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A LIGHT SHINES

 

A light shines through the window.

What was dark is now light.

The spotlight hits its mark.

My dark form shivering on the bed.

Whispers fill the air.

Footsteps follow in their wake.

A door opens below.

Is it too late to run?

I must save myself from him.

He walks the night to find me.

His journey has come to an end.

And so has mine.

THE DEAD GAME

FLUSH OF PINK

… the inner gauge is rising to its peak …

 

Anger raises its head

as I thrash in my bed.

The hot flush of pink is flowing.

To my brow, it isn’t slowing.

 

I remember his aqua eyes

as he retold his many lies.

I watched the grim line of his frown

as he turned my world upside down.

 

I won’t let him ruin my night.

I need him out of my sight.

No more meetings in the dark

beneath the elm in the park.

 

No more whispers as we walk.

I know the town loves to talk.

I say goodbye to my fickle love

as the moon bows its head above.

HOTTER THAN HELL

 

Hotter than hell is their playground.

Beneath layers of rocks and dirt.

They wait for their day of salvation.

When they can ride in the storm.

They grow impatient for the invasion.

The end of life as we know it.

I can hear their cries blowing in the wind.

The whispers brought forth from below.

It’s time for us to gather ammunition.

Before our poor town is nothing at all.

 

THE DEAD GAME

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HOUSE OF SHADOWS

HOUSE OF SHADOWS

“Come to me,” the house whispers.
A whisper on the cold wind.
A streak of lightning.
A rumble of thunder.
What else has the house in store for us?
Strange lights in the windows.
The lights becomes dancing figures.
What goes on at night at End House?
Dare we find out?

THE DEAD GAME
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THE FIRST SNOWSTORM

image

Snow covers the ground

with its white purity.

Everything is

whispered clean.

Sounds are muted.

Animals go into hiding.

A hush falls.

We’re able to take a deep breath,

step back,

and enjoy the beauty.

There’s no hurry.

Cars are buried.

Mass transit is shut down.

We have time for family

and snow ball fights.

Sleds sliding down

newly created hills.

Hot chocolate

in front of the fire.

Marshmallows roasting

on sticks.

I have my boots and gloves.

I’m ready!

BRING BACK THE DEAD

 

Oh ouija board,

please bring me spirits.

Spirits of the light

and ones of the damned.

I want to hear their tales

of past lives and woes.

I want to feel

their unearthly presence.

Their dead breath

on my face.

Their moans and screams

of the long nights.

Please bring me them this night.

I can feel cold breath.

Shrieks fill the silent night.

Icy fingers trail down my face.

They’re at my neck.

Squeezing.

A little too tight.

Too tight…

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