A preview of my next book of dark poetry, this one with a creepy crawly theme. Once again, my daughter offered up her eye as the cover.
By Lisa McCourt Hollar
Creepy, crawly, icky bugs,
Drop from ceilings, onto rugs.
Slimy, gooey, slithering slugs,
Climb up drains, left unplugged.
Spiders abound, every type,
Clicking pinchers; ready, set, bite.
Slippery snakes, beneath closed doors,
Slithering their way across bare floors.
Hiding in shadows, vampire bats,
Gnawing through walls, red eyed rats.
Is this nightmare only a dream,
Or something more, what could it mean?
Opening your mouth, wanting to scream,
But what comes out, joining the scene?
Worms and maggots, oh what gore,
Roaches, beetles, raging war.
Digging into a gourmet feast,
Devouring your tongue, a tasty treat.
Liver, guts, famished fly,
Slowly, you die.
Copyright© 2011 Lisa McCourt Hollar