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Poetry » General » Vacation Gone Wrong font: B s : A A A . width: full 3/4 1/2
Author: Ivory Taint
Fiction Rated: T - English - Horror/Poetry - Published: 06-28-09 - Updated: 06-28-09 - Complete - id:2690750

You step into the sand—I eat your foot—

I am the man-eating sand

And I’m spooky.

You scream for the blood

And search for a face,

But much to my disgrace

Do not notice the flood

Of the shore that can’t reach you.

You turn and it’s bright

And it shines

From the window of your eyes—

Sun blushes your skin

Like a crimson disguise.

And you’re waiting to leave,

But you’re having to bleed

From the nub where your foot

Once caressed the air

In its soft, careless stride,

Never doubting or knowing

The value of life.

You are a runner with your muscle tone

Which rests that beach all alone;

Your muscle, it fades and the pride fades the same

And all you can say is

“You’re turning to fat.” Then you stare into sky and shout

“What is that?”

But it’s only a bird.

A bird that can’t save you and won’t say a word—

It isn’t an airplane and you’re too good for people,

Remember?

And you’re going insane, each line that your mind writes—

More inhumane.

And that crimson stain of blood, skin, and anger,

Strangles you to the ground, but you can’t surrender.

I smile inside as I look where you lied—at the base of my mouth—

I shall swallow with pride.

My specs dissolve inside

You and cover every pigment—

Every rusty fake tan you ever put in it.

I crawl through your ears and inside your ears—

Your brain is mine.

You sink and I stab every hope you’ve ever had

Inside that idealistic life.

You scream and my heart beams, “Help” and I start to feel flattered

And realize that pride

Is all I’ve been after.

I gulp you as you gaze into the ground,

Pull your eyes from your sockets, your teeth from your mouth

And you think that I’m crazy and don’t say a word,

You think that you’re dreaming, but that is absurd—

I’ve got you.

You say your last goodbyes in your silent, shocked mind

And float along sea with remains picked free—

Dry—

I left some limbs for salt

To coat you like candy

And ultimately

For sharks and their satiety

Who often like arms

And legs

A little salty—

I’ve heard they taste like French fires.

Enjoy your vacation.



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