My Nightmare/Fantacy Poem by Tyrone Wingfield

I awoke in my room to find my house empty
I thought myself lucky and hopped in the shower
While washing I noticed that rust colored water flowed from me
But thought nothing of it at that current hour

I sat at my table naked and dripping
And poured myself a decent sized bowl of cereal
By now I started to find the silence disturbing
Because something about it felt too unreal

I went to my garage to go check the mail
But when I opened the door, all three cars were still there
Something wasn't right and that was easy to tell
So I went back into the house and screamed 'Is anyone here? '

But only silence existed, not a word was said
I searched the whole house and found not a soul
My search ended at the attic, when a feeling of dread
I went up the stairs and that sight took its toll

I found the family, only thing was they were dead
Down the stairs flowed a river of blood
Each and every one of them seemed to have lost their head
I stalked up the stairs and stood in the flood

Next I look all around me and laughed, to my surprise
I danced around in their blood enthralled
Not a single tear fell from my green eyes
As I tumbled amongst their bodies, then somebody called

It was the neighbors complaining about the noise
So a simple lie rolled off my tongue
And they accepted my promise to minimize the noise
But then a twisted plan was sprung

I slowly dragged the bodies one by one
Down the stairs and and hung them in the shower
I took and ax and hacked them up, but the plan was only half way done
And dinner was approaching faster each passing hour

I skinned them all and gutted them too
While on the stove boiled a pot of water
I made a huge pot of family stew
The entire street echoed with laughter

By now the neighbors were at the front door
Because of my prior promises that Ive broken
With a simple smile I welcomed them in but said little more
I apologized once more and begged them to take the stew as a token

They were easily convinced since the stew smelled amazing
And they hurried out the door
I assumed they found the something disturbing
Because they called the phone once more

This time they sounded worried
It turns out the me wasn't properly ground
I shouldn't of acted so hurried
Because then, a finger wouldn't of been found

They ask to speak to my mother
Because the finger looked similar to hers
I told them she was under the weather
Because her cold has taken a turn for the worse

The rest of this dream is too perverse
For the likes of me to diverse