There’s a monster in my gut
I can feel him breathing evermore
Those subtle, green-eyed  snarls
From which emits a midnight slick
Of intoxicating oil
Every and each lonesome eve
He rings the dinner bell, reverberating hunger
Through the acid of my walls, ascending up my spine
No matter how my door is braced
His entrance my meal spoils
But don’t misunderstand me now
Although he is a monster
He has gentlemanly hands
That raise his glass for one last speech
Toasting dreams gone black and foiled