Tell Me A Story
You ask me to tell you a story.
Instead I will blow up a balloon,
Puffing my words into it
Until it is full.
I will not tie up the end.
I will hold that part
Between my fingers,
Up against your ear.
Slowly relaxing my grip.
The air will come rushing out
Along with all the sounds,
Vowels and consonants
Forming syllables
And phrases.
Listen closely
As the wind whispers
All the tales
I could ever wish to tell.
Don’t mind the scent
Of rubber and latex.
The stink is part
Of the price you have to pay
For being entertained this way.
Horror Sleaze Trash 