I (sometimes) call myself Mr. Pondersome. I'm a rather wordy, weirdy person. I say hullo a lot. I write a lot more. While you're here, why not give some of it a read?

Thursday 8 October 2015

THAT WHICH IS TRULY TERRIFYING (a.k.a. National Poetry Day and Halloween: Two Red Letter Days with One Poem)

The everyday played up to expectation
and then
suddenly
a turn -

People maiming themselves

quite willingly. Everything a lie,
a conspiracy on
one.

The figure in the distance,

framed in moonlight or
sunlight, depending
on safety.

Events shrinking 

to an inevitable
claustrophobia.
Small joy - 
snatched.

Little blood, 

more sweat.
A subtle, scratchy recording.
A real dead body. Significance
sharper than the knife.

Hurt by a friend's hand.

Lies waking life.

Slow boil.

Staccato tension.
Release.
It happens.

And she's dead. She's always been

dead. You just weren't looking.
Conclusion...
but the promise goes on.

























































































































































































































Just one jump scare. 


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