Green Horror

Immersed in a lush green sea,

free from bustling civilization,

Leaves obscure your sight.

Jagged branches stab your head.

The monstrous trees block your view

of the sky, your only compass.

Webs of poison ivy gate off your only path,

Sharp emeralds threatening rashes

that sear like lava.

 

So, you dive into the soaring grasses

and flail helplessly as the moss green weeds ensnare your feet,

and you choke on the itchy artichoke blades invading your mouth.

The spinning bright shades of green churn your stomach.

Suddenly, a coyote’s howl pierces the distance

and subsequently, a deer’s dying bleat shakes the trees.

 

You run faster,

almost tripping over the brambles intending to trap you forever

Between the bars of blades,

you see your house, warmly lit and still standing strong.

 

The frigid evening air chills your tense body

as you scurry across the perfectly trimmed grass in your yard.

Only the leather of your aged shoes protects your feet from

the thousands of needles and the ravenous bugs lurking amongst them.

 

You dive for your door and rush inside,

immediately slamming it shut.

The soft hum of your television blocks out the banging of the branches.

The artificial lights preserve your sight.

The dirt-free blankets on your couch provide warmth, not rashes.

You refuse to look out your window,

too afraid to chance even your yard.

After all, your backyard grass and the woods that nearly claimed your life

are relatives, despite what the poets say.

 

They say the woods are safe,

where the animals frolic without a care.

They say the woods are beautiful,

where pretty plants never try to purge your life.

They say the woods are a place of restoration,

where people like yourself go for walks to relax.

 

They don’t know that

Horror can come in green.