Sometimes I Have a Stephen King Mind

Sometimes I have a Stephen King mind, always searching for a good tale to weave, filled with macabre and mysterious thought, clearing my cobwebs of all the fraught. Sometimes I have a Stephen King mind, reading his novels in a well-lit room, as my fingers of perspiration turn each page, as he surprises me with his creative rage. Sometimes I have a Stephen King Mind, waiting for the antagonist to jump out, scaring me until all ten toes curl, making my body feel as if in a swirl. Sometimes I have a Stephen King mind, wanting to visit him in Bangor Maine, passing his blood-red Victorian mansion, an ostentatious nineteenth century expansion. Sometimes I have a Stephen King mind, and wonder what he is really all about, his genre of horror fiction is quite scary, recalling his first novel about telepathic Carrie.