Believe me, I’m not crazy
Believe me, I’m not crazy
- interview with murder
Just below the rational lies
the think center, a camouflage.
It was the smell, sticky and red,
that made me ravenous.
And after it was all over,
I sat on the lanai with a pina colada,
a light breeze ruffling my cover.
3 thoughts on "Believe me, I’m not crazy"
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Whoa! Not sure I totally understand this poem, but it sent a chill up my spine.
The first couple of drafts were a little gruesome. It was inspired by an ad for a show interviewing murders. I may need a little more hints in the poem that the speaker is the murder hiding in plain and normal sight.
Chilling imagery! And reading your note on the inspiration… i find myself wondering about our societal fascination with violence every time i try to find a show to watch. Love that you are looking at that through your poetic lens.