I cannot think of any poetry tonight so I will try a very short story. Actually most of my poems are short stories that use the minimum number of words to convey a feeling or an idea or two.
Guilty Premonitions
I have always had the feeling of impending doom, but today it was finally confirmed by a significant event: Today after I finished my daily self-loathing (which consisted of looking at my to-do list, hating myself for not having done it since it was written weeks ago, then saying that I can do it later. Quite mandatory for any self-respecting procrastinator), I looked up from my livid staring contest with the beige, floral-pattered carpet, and I accidentally saw myself in the window, much in the same way a hapless horror-movie character looks up into a mirror and is frozen in terror.
In this glance that became a look that became a glowering stare, I saw myself in triplicate. The me on the right was nigh-transparent and dark and sinister, the me on the left had more form but was all the more frightening for it; his warped features sitting in plain view.
The Me in the middle was solid, but the features were so jumbled that you could not tell who or what I was, but whatever it was, it stared with its multiple noses and lips and furrowed brows that sunk into jet black eyes; staring with a cold cruelty. I saw a monster.
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