CRAPPYPASTA

For those pastas that are smelling less than fresh…


waste

| 5 Comments

try the first door on the block.
fucking cold.
locked. shit.
almost sundown. need to get inside.
next door. hands appear at the window.
second pair of hands.
third. fourth. fifth…
bloody head bashes into the window near the door.
stares at you.
3 eyes. screams. you fall down the porch.
run.
run.
third house to try. dark now.
don’t try lock.
look up.
looking at you from second story window.
dark window. stained window.
black holes at eyes.
follows your movements.
you run again.
run.
final house.
no other houses on the block. last chance.
turn. walking towards you. hungry. tattered suit.
split limbs. multiple joint.
rib cage showing.
name tag says “Ian”.
you burst through the door.
lock it shut and push door against it.
Ian starts crying.
look around you.
holes in the wall. man with no head and a gun in the corner.
blood everywhere, upstairs dark and unwelcoming.
walk over and take gun from dead man’s grasp.
Ian’s still crying.
gonna be a long night.

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5 Comments

  1. I think you were trying to go with the ‘main character is panicking and writing reflects that’ thing, but it just came off as bad writing. Try again.

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  2. WORST POEM EVER..Oh it isnt.

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  3. Is this a poem or not? I honestly can’t tell.

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  4. Is this supposed to be lyrics to a song?

    I read it in a kind of rappy way. It sounded strange due to the lack of rhyming and flow. It also sounded strange because I’m a reasonably well spoken white person.

    Seriously you should hear me saying some words frequently used by African-American rappers.

    I used to think the word “hos” was referring the gardening utensil.

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  5. THIS WRITER is a waste.

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