snap

Edge of your seat folks!
More like edge of the bed
Live screaming
Live streaming tears
Talk about true horror
It’s so loud
Too loud
Round and round
Only the hammers of hell drown
They fade out the noise

Stop beating yourself! but how?
How when your brain hates you

Dredging up an old fleshy skeletons
And they snap snap snap
They snap and snap and
It laughs while I squirm
While I scream and plead
Snap snap snap
Beat my own fists
Against the floor
Forehead against the bones
But it’s all agony from there

Alone at 4:48 am and I can’t breathe
Shiver and shake like a fever seizure
Listen to a voice suggesting solutions
But antidepressants are not the answer
They don’t stop the nightmares;
The clawing for leverage
To keep myself from falling
The gasping for air to keep from drowning
The search for glue to keep from falling to pieces
Or the quicksilver pain that follows on waking

©MelanieMcCurdie2017

Cover by Jerry Winnett (a work still in progress) Coming soon to Fear Front Publishing

In the small burg of Skull Creek, a death is on the prowl. Some say it is a copycat killer, out for his moment of fame, but Jacqueline DePasse and her diligent crew of detectives soon learn that it is so much more than a tribute to the only known and convicted female serial killer in captivity. Cathleen Carson. DePasse, with the assistance of crime reporter Jake Michaels and her team, soon discover that one victim survived and she will be the key, the one who must Roll the Beautiful Bones and stop a killer before he strikes again.

a horrified shadow

If you have never felt hunger

a desperation so deep in your gut

that it gnaws at your bones and

it speaks in vernacular tongues

whispering to your pain addled brain

in the devil’s voice it denies,

tries to convince your starving stomach

that it doesn’t need that sustenance

then you have no right to tell me to be patient.  

 

It is devastating, to stand in the

refrigerator light sobbing,

in the open door of a food filled fridge and

know that there is not a damned thing in it

that you can ingest or imbibe

and there is nothing you can use

to fill that emptiness inside.

 

That experience

is enough

to destroy

anyone’s

mental wellbeing 

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©MelanieMcCurdie2017

Coming Soon to eBook and in paperback
Coming Soon to eBook and in paperback
Get your copy of The Hurt Chamber by Foggy McCorrigan
Get your copy of The Hurt Chamber by Foggy McCorrigan
Twisted Tales by Patti Beeton is available now
Twisted Tales by Patti Beeton is available now

Doggerel and dirges

Don’t be too kind to me.
I’m only human and like it or not
There’s still a heart ticking away In here.
Worse yet, it feels things and I’m tired.
Stupid thing, it still wants to believe that maybe
words aren’t all doggerel and dirges
secrets and lies and wooful design.
so, please, don’t be too kind
I may believe you.

©MelanieMcCurdie

Son of a –

Tiptoe through ground glass but leave no bloody footprints behind.

Confuzzled by the contradictory  message? Welcome to my world. I suggest you run.

you’re still here?  interesting. my thoughts about the situation go as thus: Winter’s Chill is a twat. On it’s heels, the Agoniser comes with his pretty, pain poisoned stick  this son of a skunkbutt…his main pleasure in existence is to torture and torment everyone.

as you see,  what goes on upstairs, isn’t pretty. those damned squatters have set up shop in the braincase are back and they have drawn some fairly apt, if pornographically  accurate, representations of reality.

and now,  to the chagrin of only me, there’s a high frequency vibration that has settled into my bones. an epically proportional ache that is slowly driving me utterly bonkers with a touch of batshit.

Sound fun?

©MelanieMcCurdie2016

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The Ticking

Tick-tock

pacepacepacepacepace

Tick-tock

Has the clock stopped?

Tick-tock

Seriously? Not even a minute yet?

Tick

Time is just a myth …

Tock

Fuck

Time, in our limited perception, only exists in our minds….

So the so-called experts say. Whoever THEY are…

However, when a body is positioned, poised…

Waiting becomes torture to the impatient, the desperate…

This non-existent perception of time seems pretty damned real…

I wonder if the ticking of the clock
is the sound of Reaper’s heart.

©MelanieMcCurdie2016

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