There's a monster
we all have inside of us.
He doesn't have a name or a face,
not a single image he uses
with his many hosts.
He instead shifts his body
to fool everyone into thinking
that he is a friend
instead of a deadly parasite.

Sometimes his name is anger.
Anger is tall. Broad.
He is handsome in a way
that makes women faint
and men envious.
Anger is loud. Rash.
He says things he may
or may not mean,
but he'll never say he's sorry.
Anger sits deep inside your chest
crushing your lungs
and suffocating you

Sometimes his name is anxiety.
Anxiety is small. Worrisome.
This would not be a problem
if you knew how strong
he could really be.
Anxiety is quiet. Concerned.
Anxiety lives inside your head,
pulling the strings of your emotions,
keeping his eyes on everything you do.
He is waiting for the perfect moment
to have everything
crash around you

Other times, his name is depression.
Depression takes many forms
He can be so tiny, so minuscule
that you would do anything for him
because you cannot see
what he is capable of.
He can be as tall
as a ten-story building.
You do as he says because
you fear that he will crush you
in his palms.
You have yet to realize
he is already doing that.
Depression is a weight
inside your stomach.
You cannot get out of bed
on days he is the giant,
and everyone thinks he is gone
on days he is as small as a pebble.

His name can be PTSD
It can be anorexia nervosa or bulimia.
Maybe for you, he’s paranoia or OCD.
Perhaps his name is Schizophrenia.
Social anxiety or DID,
Insomnia or ADHD,
Body dysphoria or Bipolar disorder

His name does not matter
He is within every single one of us.
And the only way to make him stop
is to acknowledge he is there.

So anxiety, depression, and anorexia nervosa,
I know you’re there.
And I’m taking my life back.

We stole the night together
Held together by a tether
Telling stories as we went
With a list of movies we had to rent
We played with each other's hair
A quite inseparable pair
We shared all our troubles
Promising we'd be doubles
And we'd bolster each other's souls
Until our hearts burned down to coals
But
Then we drifted and we struggled
Battling demons that left us puzzled
Until we realized
They're easier to fight together
Than alone
-hopefully your best friend

When you reach for the cold wooden board
your hands begin to decay
your skin peels back then hardens and falls off your scarlet bones.
A bright midnight flash struggles to push through to the other side of your mind
revealing that you passed years ago but are stuck in an actuality that doesn’t belong to you.
Life is all just a disorder, dead but you keep on living
a distorted mind trapped in an unborn child's head.
Or it could be a game from the further future that they play
controlling little beings within a screen.
The words engraved on the board now lay in your flesh and you cannot let go
from the reality within reality
but is the concept that hard to grasp?
You believe in God but not your own insanity?
We are the dead ones that are only able to perceive
they are makers of our madness
the creators of an urban fantasy
and they try to speak to us from millions of years in the future through a sharp birch wood board
but the lies we are told and the truths that this “world” withholds
does not compare to the unknown universe outside of this screen.