Crime, Paranormal, and Horror Writing

Fractured Mind

i awake confusion hits
contorted images in my brain
body moving out of sync
mind has not returned 
wild dogs; barking, howling
chase me through
dark shadowy woods
my foot catches on dead branch,
i fall into decaying leaves
cover my head with torn arms
blood drips onto my face
as the dogs descend
i awake confusion hits,
i stumble to the kitchen
legs chasing from the chase
mind floats somewhere above,
in my kitchen people sit and chat
welcoming me with smells of tea and toast
warm happy voices fill the cramped room
i live alone
the people melt away
leave multi-coloured puddles on my floor
i tip toe around them
one touch and I’ll be sucked into the void
my back door shakes and wobbles
glowers at me with hate
cockroaches climbing the walls
drop on my head and thud to the floor
smell like death
shaking with fear I open the door
bacteria  from the handle 
burning, eating into my hands
washing all day will not
rid me of the taint
i run down garden path
suddenly a clowns head on a wire coil
bounces into me
white  face vacant
thick red lips grinning
blue star eyes staring
the clown dissolves
strange postman appears,
knife in hand
lunges violently at me
i grab the knife
stab him instead
letters cascade onto the broken path
i awake in red satin sheets
as confusion multiples.

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lovely sue b

A poem can be edited as the poet wishes; why Microsoft word is rubbish on edits. I'd edit this differently but hey, i never wrote it. 

This poems reads like a set of different scenes, be it TV, theatre, acid trip, in a book. Disconcerting and equally disorientating. The imagery is Hammer House of Horror or 80s USA horror like Halloween. The reader is there, not like a mate saying, 'I dropped a tab, it was a bad trip...' and the listener nodding but thinking, Rather you than me. In this poem, you, the reader, are there. How you'd edit it is the least of your worries. After experiencing this poem, will YOU be normal? Or will part of PJ Reed's poem latch onto you? Of course, it's just a poem... And the word confusion is mentioned. What if the confusion is of crystal clear clarity? by Nick Armbrister