Alone in a forest
of dying trees
the scent of wet
decomposing leaves

Morose moose head
Cut at the neck
I can see your years
like tree rings

Body
Split in two
Down the center
At the Great Divide
Flies boil up from your flesh.
You were fuzzy once.

I can't hold my breath.
Putrescence fills my
lungs with rotting death
and my stomach turns
upside down.

Stumbling to fresh air

I trip
over your grinning, toothless
nearly human face,
spurting seemingly
ceaseless blood from
its masticated mind.

It is only attached to the torso.
I can see where your legs should be
and your are trying to drag yourself
through the dirt towards me
clawing with your
twisted fingers.
Trailing entrails,
half emptied.
Fully feeling.

I'm lying in bed.
Sunken eyes wide open.
All I can smell is rotting flesh.
I'm peeking down my hallway now,
and I see many mangled hands,
reaching from every doorway.
Burned, bruised, and beaten.

I sprint down the passage
frantically throwing
pentagrams
like ninja stars
through thresholds.

I hear sizzling like
morning roast
drips onto coffee burners,
and I explode into the kitchen.

"Good morning! Coffee is ready,"
Mother greets me, smiling.
The hallway is
dead silent.