Letters Build Up Like Dust

Tipped, a plastic bottle spills
Its pale pink pills, each escape,
escaped over-the-counter,
Burning bitterly in blood.

A laugh, choked off, spatters
against the mirror, where two
red-rimmed eyes stare vacantly
At the wet red teeth of death,

Smiling for four weeks in wait
While letters build up like dust;
No one knocks until the land-
Lord’s man comes about the bill.

That fine suit was not so fine
When he left, brown and bitter,
Dripping down-chin just like that
Dry black laugh on the mirror.

Reviews

[J. Elsie]

CREEPY! Here I thought I was going to be reading about a sad love story or something, but no... VAMPIRES? At least I think thats what this was about. Maybe I'm super tired.
*I especially like the combo of lines two and four in the last stanza.
*The strength of your poem lies in stanzas two and four.
*The Last line of stanza one rubs me the wrong way for some reason.
"Burning Bitterly in Blood"
Perhaps the alliteration just seemed too forced.