There's sanctuary
to which I can flee,

Somewhere there's a door
you cannot open
locked inside of me

There I can enjoy
mysterious and
dreadful
freedom.

Home made zombie voodoo whistles past
Wicked pastiche
Betrayed and murdered
Sitting on beer crates
She admits how Unsalvageably evil she is
Sparkled in the moonlight
Fires were not uncommon
raise a quizzical eyebrow
Remove my coat
Sniffing language
Orange silver glow
Murky waters
Slime and filth.

Be careful what you think!
Anything could be true?
You could be me? and I could be you?

This thought starts growing inside my head
Is it me writing this?
or is it you instead?

This situation could be worse,
please find pen and paper,
write the next verse.

When I was little, a voice in my head, said.
“there’s a monster underneath my bed”

Not liking the fear that he gave.
A part of me was his slave.

I needed to be brave.
Look him in the eye.

It was time for a monster hunt.
Not knowing the word confront.

Eye’s closed.
Stick my head under the bed.
Open up after three.
There was nothing there to see.