Sunflower Shutters

Probably my most gothic piece. Describes the fear of adulthood and generational rot.

Sweltering Virginia heat,

my tiny hand holding the junk food,

pepperoni stick in one,

chips in the other fist.



The dawn of adulthood,

how it beckons to thee,

loveless stare consuming me.



The house is cursed with banal cry.

Sunflower shutters weeping with divorce,

crimson wood rotting like the marriage,

blackened hair staining the floorboards.



Entombed in the monster house is She.

Grandmother, mother, and me.