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The Nightmare

The chain lock snapped
as the voices poured out
that filled my brain with death.

the bespattered remains
of what could be called
my inflated ego
clung to the curtains
that were stained with rain
and dripped from the bed sheets
onto the champagne stained

I only wanted to surprise you
as my tears dripped down ice
and my screams were only
blocked by a blank stare.

I never like that carpet anyway.

Copyright Janet Kuypers.
All rights reserved. No material
may be reprinted without express permission.

Blister and Burn, Janet Kuypers 2007 book