Slipping from the stiff as a board
white out that envelops her existence
the fabric of her reality unravels
spinning out of control
she makes her descent a crash landing
due to the torque on a slippery reed like surface
arpeggio legs syncopate and
fingers narrowly miss the eight-legged ballerina.
Jumping into the hypnotic pools of her Kindle
she blows the descending spider away
with her hot hurricane breath.
Fingers hit the home button
scanning the horizon for collections
hoping to see a familiar face
she selects one of her numerous zombie stories
Inside everything is black and white like a film noire
shadows populate by amorphous moans
struggling to battle fatigue
the dude drags his leg
the sweet smell of doughnuts bekon him
he sinks his teeth into the screaming pastry.
Why, where is that sound coming from?
Repulse, rachet, torque
the raspberry filled doughnut spills inky black pools on the floor.
I hope you enjoyed my spooky poem. :)