Cheap Motel
Did we take the right turn?
I woke up with a hand
in bed
severed at the wrist.
It wasn’t mine.
Both mine were fine!
but cold and dead
the hand in bed
rest upon the scratchy quilt.
I gave the hand my firmest grip
to see if it was real
and blood it mused
it squeezed and oozed
and went drip
drip drip
drip
drip
Who’s hand it was
I couldn’t tell
I wouldn’t know
til’ I fell to hell.
Heed my advice and
read it well.
Never trust a cheap motel.
About the Creator
Amos Glade
Welcome to Pteetneet City & my World of Weird. Here you'll find stories of the bizarre, horror, & magic realism as well as a steaming pile of poetry. Thank you for reading.
For more madness check out my website: https://www.amosglade.com/
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