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ghost writer

at the library where she'd bleed
she wrote in a book of fears;
made gestures like an octopus
spewing ink on pages 'n pages of horror
disgorging the flesh of her stillborn ideas --
she had a feel for weakness
could spot a victim on the sharp edge of a glance
'no spine on your books,' she'd say

its not the skeletons in her closet that scare me
nor the writhing way she wields her pen,
its the ghosts screaming inside her head
that make me forget to breathe again

Hi Jerry,

I am not skilled in the art of critique, but I enjoyed this poim. I wrote a poim called ThoughtSquids that contain a vaguely similiar thought inside your poim.

"that make me forget to breathe again." Very nice.

Trout

jeRRy.whaLLey wrote:ghost writer

at the library where she'd bleed
she wrote in a book of fears;
made gestures like an octopus
spewing ink on pages 'n pages of horror
disgorging the flesh of her stillborn ideas --
she had a feel for weakness
could spot a victim on the sharp edge of a glance
'no spine on your books,' she'd say

its not the skeletons in her closet that scare me
nor the writhing way she wields her pen,
its the ghosts screaming inside her head
that make me forget to breathe again

Wonderful octopus imagery.....and a pleasure to read this one.
Just one thought your "its" in lines 9 and 11 should be "it's" ?