Medley of Lame
The hearing impaired were invited to the Halloween party.
They all showed up with hats made of pees on their knees.
"Happy Hat low Pees!"
Your witch is so fat she has to ride a Hoover
I sent my bratty diabetic, allergic-to-peanuts stepson out to trick or treat.
Dracula called in sick on Halloween night.
He could not stop coughin'
Andy went to the Halloween party dressed as a buttox
He said, "What? I'm a full moon!"
I dedicate myself to you
Fully and truly
Bare my bones
And bleed my blood for you
I promise my faith and loyalty
What’s mine is yours
Take my best
Ravage my body
I will hold what you cannot
I will fight the demons you determine
And take the fall to save your precious light
Again and again
*Read considering each of the pictures. Thanks @RubyPond for an awesome prompt!
A Mother’s Secret
Dorothy Anne doesn’t know who is fucking with her, if she is going completely insane, or if the letters are in fact true messages from her mother, who had mysteriously died 10 years earlier—5 months after she warned Annie that she would. It started with the letters randomly showing up in her spam inbox, but soon there were unexplainable hardcopies found in places she was drawn to look. The first time was the back of a picture frame; art her mother had purchased for her—Thomas Kinkade’s Garden of Prayer.
Annie tried to talk to her husband about the letters, even her sister, who could, without-a-doubt, confirm they are their mother’s words, but no one would hear her out. She was quickly labeled crazy and was recommended to go back on her medications; and ultimately it was assumed that she had relapsed, again. So Annie began a second life; she had decades of experience keeping secrets, so this was no difficult task. But the longer she kept her mother’s secret, and the more the relationship with the dead grew, the more she began to completely separate herself from reality.
Years passed and the more she believed and behaved, the more she seemed to activate communications. Messages continued to show up in her life, and eventually they began to tell her what to do; regardless of law, morals and sobriety, Dorothy Anne was completely committed—committed to the dead, or to her insanity . . .
Carousel
My mother bought me a carousel
Colored lights warting the top
Painted animals chasing their tails
Bright music wedging into my ears
Sometimes it snowed
Sometimes it was bundled in black
My neighbor asked for it
Tomorrow
Maybe an amusement park could own it
Next year
To be donated:
239 Closet-Drawer-Shoebox-Cupboard-Attic-Backpack-Suitcase Ave.
