THE HOOD OF HORRORS

I had been in the hospital, in stroke recovery, healing my dome,

Then, into the neighborhood of horrors, I moved to a quiet, new home,

There were no real humans there,

Just demons, everywhere,

They're always trying to get in at night, working crowbars, while drooling foam.

MY NEIGHBOR EATS DIGITS

Your neighbor next door down, knows,

That you have juicy fingers and toes,

As the neighbor's belly gets tight,

He'll definitely take a bite,

And back, your lost digit, never grows.