I am not me. There is something else inside. What you see, well that’s just a Halloween mask askew, over a face that used to be mine.
A half made peanut butter and jelly sandwich naps upon a cutting board. A ripe red tomato slice of blood pools beside it. The hour is weak. The flashing lights from the television pulse loudly, throbbing through the cluttered living spaces that now lay lifeless. The Gods turn their heads. They always do.
The new me, that is not me, what was once me, peers through two eye slots like a horse in blinders. I hear the sound of someone else breathing, a jagged knife through pumpkin skin, inside this mask. This thing that was once me, framed in windowpane, soaks in the horror show. Take caution sleeping towns and slumbering cities. Lock your doors. There’s a psychopath on the loose. The something else that was once in me is now the something else inside you. This
silicone mask that gripped my once upon a time face, now crawls over you. Through two eye slots, the you that was once you soaks in the horror show. The Gods turn their heads. They always do.
-Alex Gust
POETRY FESTIVAL. Submit to site for FREE. Submit for actor performance. Submit poem to be made into film. 