As I am affronted
the response is
to the simple.
It burrows in corners
and hides in creases,
residing in the cutest of dimples.
Body derelict like a crumbling temple.

This thing is evil-
or I am for sure.
One thing is true
drop the others to the floor.
A black and white,
grey on holiday.
A swinging shape I'm
sure will manifest
into a sword one day.

And it's coming for me.
There's no other device.
No time for this guy to be
approachable, no time for
this guy to be nice.
I'm fighting for my life,
but I can reason with the knife.
It doesn't have to make sense,
I've just had it up to the temple tonight.

And I ask it how it came here,
what it wants to protect.
I thank it for its service but
I can't seem to connect.
This situation doesn't look
like a lion on my tail.
I stomp my feet and flail my
arms inside this inflated hell.

I name it and it laughs at me,
it's name is not a word.
It's known by screams
and pleas for mercy
like nothing you've ever heard.
Its job is to overwhelm
me with life and concepts long interred.
A fear that's hidden deep behind
an obvious thing like hate.
I approach ad infinitum,
to make this devil meditate.

A hundred and eight prayer beads.
A mantra to stand and fight.
A weapon of intent,
of magical will;
A word of power and light.
Just get me through this night-

Our feelings aren't based in logic.
We use tools on a budget.
Report the numbers and don't fudge it.
Be honest with the others,
Be honest with the self.