The Harvestmen (Fear Is In Season)

A two part poem about emotional manipulation, insanity, and the strangeness and menace lurking underneath an otherwise friendly town. Ties in with my novel and is in fact told from the perspective of the antagonists as they cope with not being alone in their own heads and their unnatural, impossible hungers.


Fear is in season
The countryside wakes with wildflowers
The forest brims with silvery tinsel secrets
Ribbons wrapping around trees, around souls
Shifting like fog in merry eyes
That twitch left and right, looking under skin
Like an X-ray

Beneath that picturesque beauty
Beneath that lazy brook and autumn leaves
Blood and viscera is arranged like some mad painting
No one else sees but you
And us

There's a change inside us, and we
Can't bring ourselves to hate it entirely
The rolling landscapes before us conveyed
With painstaking, impossible clarity
We can hear the birds
And feel their little heartbeats
As intimately as if they were our own

Their dying plunge against decaying Victorian splendor
Is nearly too much to bear
But we watch and listen and feel
Connecting with the thieving voices
That encircle our thoughts
Like lights on a Christmas tree

Pain is in season
It grows like forbidden fruits
We feel compelled to reach for
And engulf in one go
We'd dip our hands in boiling oil
Just to re-experience this bliss

Far in the boondocks
Of your cutesy little town
The serene nature scene
Peels back like a second skin
This apple is chewed by worms
Your thoughts have a black undertone
That, if reflected outward
Allows us to take you

The End

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