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Tilt-A-Whirl

Stomach twist,
I feel sick,
head whirls, and
I am taken on a ride.

Colors blur,
everything spins,
“Enjoy the ride.”
the voice echos.

Faking fine
comes natural,
as I am torn
apart inside.

Stomach is
being ripped
to shreds.

Lungs are being
squeezed
until no
breath escapes.

Dizzy drunk
from spinning
like kids
on a playground.

The ride isn’t over.

“Keep it together.”

“Control must be won.”

Kim Sealock
10-18-19

Inkblot

It’s the monster’s forest, they say. Deep within it, he lies sleepily protecting his domain. Many villagers have been killed trying to take the forest down for their advancements, and it is happening again. This time the villagers want a road to connect them to the newest village just beyond the forest. They should go around, but they will try and go through but will inevitably die.

An army of men gear up in rusted armor that hasn’t been used since the last time, their ancestors tried to enter the monsters forest. They march onward with pitchforks, broken swords, and some rope. (What they are going to do with rope, who knows? The monster will only snap it.) They continue to march towards the forest. The hill starts to shake as the monster’s face slowly rises over the forest and stares down the makeshift army. They make their demands, and the monster moves out of the woods and down the hill towards them. Fear taking hold of the villagers, they run back towards the village, their flight is cut short by a swift annihilating blow from the monster’s tail. The beast looks over to me, and I hear his voice inside my head.

“Do you want to try too?” He says exasperated.

“No, I’m content leaving you be.”

“Good.” the monster turns and settles deep into his forest to sleep until the next wave of progressive villagers come to the attack with the same rusted armor and broken swords.

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