No Ouija boards.
No robes or candlelight.
Just soft whispers,
And bones stabbing through dirt;
There's always the smell--
Thick and heavy like old grease;
And I worship,
On my knees,
In the dark;
It's ok to whisper.
It's even okay to scream,
Because the dead always listen.
YOU ARE READING
TEDDY BEAR HEADS
HorrorThis collection of dark poetry and flash fiction wants you to come and play. After all, even the things that live in the dark get lonely . . .
