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Aug 2022
Though reading horror stories
gearing up as strawberry spring fest
full throttle danse (macabre),
an only every now and again predilection
genre crazy wave
washing over me like
a killer tsunami,
harboring pier rill less night surf
(subsequently fueling figurative
hair razing close shave

critical desperation) to save
thine scrawny ****,
(a derriere laughing stock,
and hence cheeky of me to rave),
what you put
in a Margarita,
those rare occasions satiated, when
hung over insomnia heavily bulging,
rheumy myopic blood shot eyes
nonetheless lock into

vital opening sentence determining,
whether adroit kingly author
nimbly setting the stage and pave
ving what thenceforth, pro
misses tubby a cell out ace
in the hole captive audience
skeleton crew exhuming a grave
grim reaper they crave
(me, this apt pupil), doth brace
himself by all counts once

a bad little kid deserving, well...now...
just a bag of bones,
who fiendishly cackles
analogous to screeching
linkedin deafening banshee
when leaning in (Sheryl Sandberg like),
whereat after opening sentence,
an instantaneous big bang
possessive gnarly hand
forcibly grabs my attention

presaging and frightening
yours truly (juiced in case
ye did not know),
where within the bazaar
of bad dreams epic,
which seems like forever,
when I finally erase
and exorcise the bogeyman who,
regally, masterfully, immediately,
dramatically got woven

lady chattery teeth and all
withering wicked warp and woof
establishing (proof positive),
an excellently crafted
Chiral Mad heavily shades
of night are falling
gussying haunting place,
where the color of evil permeates
every cerebral space
with darkness, said

sub rosa prime evil punctuates
the mind of this dream catcher,
whence after four past midnight
the reaper's image appears
sending adrenaline rush,
surreal augmented moving pictures,
viz flight or fight
courtesy third eye blind
did, when firestarter alarm didst grind
passage of time manifesting dark forces

blaze zing atavistic fear itself lined
up battleground formation
from the borderlands of my mind
this even before turning
the first page where the eyes
of drag'n my afterlife
glowed with radiant shining
where suspense didst wind.
Written by
matthew scott harris  64/M/schwenksville, penna
(64/M/schwenksville, penna)   
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