Predators, Prey & Perversions

Concrete jungle predator, the scent of your prey excites you, infatuated by her silhouette, the thought of the hunt ignites you

Dark alleys, dim lit streets and untrimmed hedges, hunting grounds for perverted pleasures, the thrill of being caught tonight, keeps you well obscured from sight

The hairs upon her arms begins to stand, she knows you’re out there and your plans, even though you’re not in view, be careful, she’s prepared for you

Notice one hand in her purse, beware her kink is more perverse, although you fancy yourself the hunter, your ignorance your biggest blunder

She turns down a deserted street, her mini skirt has you in heat, you can’t resist, begin to run, she smiles and pulls her loaded gun

One shot, two shots, three shots, four, your lifeless body hits the floor, one arm, one leg, one head, one heart, she hunted you right from the start

Photo by Zeeshaan Shabbir

Mother…

Coffee and a cigarette on a lazy Sunday morning, the cool breeze gives me goosebumps, what a beautiful day dawning

The sweet smell of pancakes fills the house with such delight, the sun smiles from the horizon, filling the sky with amber light

We all sit at the table, but mom seems unstable, like stuck in a nightmarish Brothers Grimm fable, her hands start to shiver as she grips on the knife, dad stares as he ponders what’s wrong with his wife

He notices, she is not wearing her ring and something seems kind of off with her skin, I whisper to Dad ‘I think it’s time to go’ but mother let’s out a resounding NO!

She clenches her fists with a sinister smile, ‘You won’t be going anywhere for a while…’ ‘Now sit down and eat everything that I’ve made, the pancakes, the eggs and the toast marmalade, Drink all of the coffee, I don’t care if it’s hot, I’ve got roasted veggies and meat in the pot’,

‘I want it all gone and don’t you dare say that you’re full’ and right there mothers mouth began to drool, I looked over at dad, frozen in fear, what’s going on with mother, her motives unclear,

I reach for a knife, eyes fixed on my mother, it’s almost afternoon, but I haven’t heard from my brother…

If you feel brave enough to dive in to Mothers mind, I would love to hear an ending to the story/poem in the comments…

Photo by Valeria Boltneva