Swift

Dolly Tingle


Pernicious doll sits on my shelf,
titillated with herself.

Eyes ashen like bituminous coal,
bleeds into me, snuffs my soul.

Her gaze upon where I lay,
is she contemplating foul play?

Deep inside her hollow head,
conjuring phantasms of dread.

Unnerved and numb I turn away,
her tenacious gaze kept at bay.

I hear a creaking on the floor,
the click to lock my bedroom door.

In cold sweat angst, cover up my head,
I feel her sit upon my bed.

© 2017 Peter Noah Thomas ~ All Rights Reserved

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