Ode to the Zombie Stripper by Jo Hewitt

September 4, 2010

skin once carying the faintest blush palest pink white and lush, now dull and gray hanging from muscle and bone that have lost all tone this girl once the bell of the ball proud and tall hair like wheat in the driver’s seat the queen of the pole now climbing from a hole from the dead she is risen caught no more in her zombie prison she walks free full of glee  to an unkown tune she will dance and sway bringing death every step of the way from her you should turn but you want that killer burn alone you will stand listening to the music of a deadly band a crescendo of screams not in your dreams the beat she finds such a lovely treat she will rock and rip off your cock you will cry and then you will die.

Time Pt 2 by Jo Hewitt

August 19, 2010

Time her enemy, They must remember they simply must! In memory lies her salvation here resurrection. Spinning the false up in her eaves she plans and schemes, plotting her return she’ll sneak into their dreams, veiled in darkness a memory of herself she shows them not the hag she has become NO for what male boy or man would want to look upon what she has really become. She slips in and plants her disease wrapped in a pretty package she weaves planting deception and misdeeds. Do my bidding kill and consume and then after I will feed off your doom. Like a phoenix I will rise and grow power mine to command your soul no longer free bring it to me! With every life you take my body will fill returning to it’s former glow. She slips in and out now it has begun Time once her enemy causing her waste now she plots no longer in haste. They bring with them into the waking world her disease sealing their fate kill she will order and kill they will attracted to false beauty and promises of love that she will never fulfill. Succubus harpy neither quite right but definitely a creature of night.

Time by Jo Hewitt

August 18, 2010

Time Pt 1

by Jo Hewitt on Tuesday, August 17, 2010 at 8:27am

In the eaves amongst the dust and debris clutter of days gone by in a house long abandoned she sits spinning her web of lies and deceit, a silken thread drawing in any who venture near shadow her only companion. This creature once of beauty divine hair a curtain of gold multi faceted shades of the sun parts golden and bronze glitter and shine, eyes the color of a noon day sun body lithe and graceful that of a dancer a high-wire queen skin of palest white lips full and red not blood red no that would be overdone but the color of roses in the height of bloom lush and full capable of fulfilling any demand. This creature fallen from grace alone in this forgotten place, spinning her web in the hopes that one day the memory of what she once was will rise again in the minds of men both young and old. She sits both withered and alone her hair once shining and gold now a veil of grime and mold, skin once taut and supple once  soft and pure now the gray of a forgotten day wrinkled and  and worn, eyes the color of a noon day sun now watered and rimmed in red clouded as if already amongst the dead, lips once full and sure now drawn back blackened in a rictus grin. Time……….

Art by Rich Hillen Jr

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