�A Knife In The Fork Drawer�

Suddenly sitting up for the third time
Sweat rushing about at four in the morning
And from outside the birds observe another panicked early worm’s ritual
Every piece of crockery seems to suck up all of the dirt in existence
I can imagine the germs and filth fizzing on my fingers
I can almost see them mean, green and see through
They spread up every hair on my arms
They will eventually make their way to my mouth
And so I have to be sick all over again…

This explodes in my mind every time
So all plates in the kitchen must be cleaned in carefully organised patterns
Wiped in certain directions
Placed in their safe piles
A hundred times repeated if the process is interrupted
I feel that I have to look after each knife and fork
As all of my cutlery have names
They weren’t christened by me
It was whoever they were manufactured by
But this automatically gives them personalities:
Sterling,
Merriman,
S.J. Phillips,
Lawrence Block,
William Turner,
Robert Welch,
David Mellor,
Arthur Price,
Royal Doulton…only I can save everyone!

This may seem strange to you
But the fate of my family
Depends on where I place this spoon.
 

Reviews

[Alana Zombie]

Wow.
That's genius.
I love that dark twinge it has...

[Gary H]

Great piece of paranoia. I felt terribly lonely whilst reading this. Looking around me I guess you are right and that the fate of life depends on where certain things are. Yes, I always wash up before going to bed. I live alone so why do I do this? Certain things have their places too. If they are moved I fear destruction and more often than not, bad things do happen.

I have just bought a new knife and it's not settling in to the house at all. I can feel the darkness setting in. Each day I wonder. Each day I wonder.........

[Cassidy Mask]

A bit wierd... But a good wierd! :D I really liked it

[Last Lying Look]

Very good and original!
I'm not sure if it was supposed to be funny but i found it slightly amusing.
Excellent write! :D