Horror Poem

Mr. Bradshaw

By: Charles Richmond

Dear Mr. Bradshaw

How is your wife?

Are you happy with your career?

Your path?

Your life?

We need to talk
I think I have a fix
Meet me at your house
I'll be there at six

Take a look around Mr. Bradshaw

Have you seen the glasses on the mantle?

The haircut?

The candles?

The stupid little looks with her three heads and the flannel

Fuck that bitch and her scandal

I can help you Mr. Bradshaw

Although it may be a gamble

Turn the TV up loud but don’t change the channel

We’re gonna hurt this bitch

 Bring her life down to shambles

And let her feel helpless, trampled, and mishandled

AHHHH, HELP ME PLEEASE!

Shut up bitch it’s only the preamble

We’re gonna make you feel worthless

Show you your life is all but substantial

Hand me the knife Mr. Bradshaw

NOOO LET ME GO PLEEASE!

Quiet you whore!

I’ll smash your hands with an anvil

You see what you’ve done?

Is this what you wanted for you daughter and son?

I don’t think so

Your life is undo-ing

And I’ve just begun

I am the undo-er

You’ll soon be undone

Come closer Mr. Bradshaw

We need a sample

Deep inside the hippocampal

This bitch won’t remember shit

Her head will be scrambled

Re-wired

Canceled

When the bitch comes to

And goes off the handle

Call the ambul

Call her the example

When she rambles, they’ll take her to the ward in shambles

Life can be a handful Mr. Bradshaw

It's relative and circumstantial

Take what you want from this but remember

You must remain manful.