SIDE-SHOW

Come one, come all: please, step inside.

Daring Matilda juggles knives.

Just fifty-cents to watch blades glide.

Come one, come all: please, step inside.

Don’t mind the blood, Sir. It has dried.

This is the show no one survives.

Come one, come all: please, step inside.

Daring Matilda juggles knives.

 

 

© All Rights Reserved Caroline Adele O’Brien

 
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The Blood-Moon Rises

The blood-moon rises. Dogs howl.

Drown out the cry of the night owl.

Out from his coffin, creature crawls:

This beast obeys the nightly calls.

And through his fangs, bellows a growl.

 

His cloaking cape, his monk-like cowl,

Caked in plasma, from his last foul

Feast, slurped from veins in bathroom stalls.

The blood-moon rises…

 

Out from the tomb, he’s on the prowl.

His fangs protrude over his jowl.

He stalks his pray through winding halls

The doomed female cries, shrieks, and falls.

Teeth sink inside her flesh. Eyes scowl.

The blood-moon rises…

 

 

© All Rights Reserved Caroline Adele O’Brien

 

Riptide

 

We were business partners.

Sold friendship for fifty cents.

Choosing bracelet-colors cost extra.

The only friendship that ever mattered was free.

I’m not sure why you gave it to me.

 

Remember the day you taught me to skip

Stones in the mud-hole down the street?

Never thought much about mud, until then.

You wore that grey jacket.

Your rain-slicked hair dripped over your eyes.

I wish I still had “something that cool” by my house.

 

Sometimes we’d sneak inside our concrete tunnel.

Exchange glances.

Share secrets.

The pebbles ground into my palms.

They formed dents in my skin.

They didn’t cut me the way the bullet did.

 

You salvaged me from youth’s riptide.

Reached for my hand in the dark

Chasm between our worlds

And pulled me closer.

Some said it was too close.

I sucked at skipping stones.

 

Remember the night we danced in my living room?

You wished your parents would never come.

I didn’t believe in third dimensions,

Or I would have smuggled you

The same way we smuggled those cinnamon toothpicks.

Hid you in that guarded

Pocket, where I’ve preserved your picture.

 

Instead, our parents jolted our tunnel.

Shattered the concrete.

Ripped velcro

Until it bled.

The scars still shed tears.

But the truth is,

Fate knew that if I was there,

You never would’ve pulled the trigger.

 

© All Rights Reserved Caroline Adele O’Brien

 

THE CUTTING TASK

Emerald scrubs melt in jade light

Room shifts fuzzes all around

In my hazed out trembling sight

 

Needle enters I have drowned

Gushing liquid through my veins

Ears fill throbbing squelching sound

 

Weighted limbs tied up in chains

Surgeon inhales beryl mask

Scalpel raised each muscle strains

 

Slices in begins his task

Plenty blood to fill the cask

 

© All Rights Reserved Caroline Adele O’Brien

 

INTERNAL EXECUTION IN THIRDS

Overcome:

 

In my body, dark insects cling.

My soul grows weary of their sting.

They run my body, while I cry.

Today, the other two will die.

 

Paranoid:

 

They’re out to get me, this I know.

They’ll wring my neck and kill me slow.

But in the grave, I’ll never lie.

Today, the other two will die.

 

Psychotic:

 

They’ll never see this sharpened knife,

Until it’s sliced away their life.

I’ll hook their skin and beat it dry.

Today, the other two will die.

 

 

© All Rights Reserved Caroline Adele O’Brien