In stories
monsters are always
underneath our bed
in our closets
or behind the curtains
to our windows and showers.
Reaping shadowy complexions
fleshy exposed eyes
gleaming ill intent
for our fawns, the children.
Creatures that exist
beyond what we can comprehend
as they watch our sneakers
slip by the edge
where they lie in wait.
Be weary to those
who seek flesh by the pound
carnivorous beings
who slather the fresh
essence of youth
in-between their teeth.
They are not hiding
but living with you
as the anger and fear
that pathologically anchors
its self into your existence.
Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 9:35 PM UTC
In stories
monsters are always
underneath our bed
in our closets
or behind the curtains
to our windows and showers.
Reaping shadowy complexions
fleshy exposed eyes
gleaming ill intent
for our fawns, the children.
Creatures that exist
beyond what we can comprehend
as they watch our sneakers
slip by the edge
where they lie in wait.
Be weary to those
who seek flesh by the pound
carnivorous beings
who slather the fresh
essence of youth
in-between their teeth.
They are not hiding
but living with you
as the anger and fear
that pathologically anchors
its self into your existence.
I'm just bored, Delete it when I wake up.
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