Ivor Steven: Smashed Pumpkin Brains

  What’s it like to be an orange Pumpkin-head Only black sockets for eyes instead. And a cut-out smile full of seeds. Queer ears made of rings and beads. Inside, your brain is scooped out for pigs feed Leaving a dark void that doesn’t bleed. On top you’re like a crinkled dome. And your sore

No One Else Around

  Lovely girl of six with hair of gold and face of innocence. I felt a bump in my blanket – a lump unmoving and steadfast. It was her doll – face contorted, clothes in pieces, limbs dismembered. I would find it in my room for the next three nights. No matter if I hid

Decay

He leaps down the halls. The decay inside his brain reflects on the walls.           !!** Click Here & Subscribe to Paula Graham’s Blog **!!   Paula Graham 2016© Poem By Poet Rummager