Mikel Calcagno

Rookie (12-27-87 TO 8-28-06 / COOTER TOWNSEND...HAHAHAHAHAHA)

From The Mind Through The Fingertips - Poem by Mikel Calcagno

she screamed.. it wasnt the scream that she had always imagined herself making at this exact moment, though she had thought about it ever since the nightmares started taking over her dreams.. she knew it was on the horizon, and that she would be face to face with this kind of fear, too soon to prepare herself.

and here she was. on fire. her lungs were swelling as if they would explode.. her heart was pounding relentlessly and she couldnt breathe for anything. but she was screaming... her mind was blowing up like electrical expolosions and she couldnt think clearly. how did she get in this room? where was the door? was there a door? where did that mask go? was it still connected to the demon who was subjecting her to shear pain, or had he finally revealed himself?

she knew nothing, and was losing her own strength fast. aside from the pain she was enduring, she could hold her own power, and strength in a series of mental cavities that would protect them, until her physical self had endured the majority of pain causing black magic that was flowing through her veins like a very malignant poison.

as her own magic slowly became useless to her body, she could feel her heart rate slowing rapidly, and saw her mask again. this man, behind this face that could never really be his own, was laughing. she could feel nothing, but could hear everything with fresh new crisp senses that were another part of her immortal defense mechanisms. he layed his hand over her heart, and the pace slowed to half. she was choking. he was leaning in to kiss her and she was choking... he was kissing her like he was in love with her and her entire body was numb and she couldnt hear her heart, and she couldnt feel any of her nerve endings, her eyes were wide open and she was choking on her own lungs and he was taking the last bit of air that would make itself leak slowly down her throat. she couldnt inhale, and he was killing her with a poisoned kiss.

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Robert Frost

The Road Not Taken

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, November 25, 2007

Poem Edited: Tuesday, April 26, 2011

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