words tele-typing in my head
was I
awake or dreaming
I heard long nails
digging into
scratching
into my scalp
no,
my third floor window?
its four a.m.
I peer out
onto a shrouded fog-filled world
my eyes adjusting
my heart twists in my chest
audible thudding in my ears
my mind plays tricks on me
I hear a thin wiry whisper of
"hello, potato chip"
my heart flips in my chest
like a fragile tell-tale chip
in a rustling metallic bag
out on a reedy branch balancing
not ten feet in front of me
Its red-eyed stare
bores into me
It
knows my name
I've a sense of one long
toothy gaping grin
a deep cavernous hunger
slobbering within
"potato chip"
words roared
as It lunges forward
dismounting from a bending branch
with the eerie twitching energy
of a spasticly-coiled hobgoblin
how easily double-paned glass
shatters
as Its
jaws imbed themselves
in my ...
Copyright November 8, 2015 All Rights are Reserved By This Author/Writer
All ideas/poetry/prose/rants are the expressed legal property of this writer.
Taken from my nightmares and dream-lands.
Meloo/Melissa A Howells straight from her Tilt-a-World
Re-edited on November 11th 2015. The figure in my dream was immense and shaggy
but I did not want to over-burden the poem with adjectives. I think its good to
leave imagination in the mind of the individual reader.