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.
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