sitting in a deserted room
drenched in water but
starving of thirst and hunger,
there’s something lurking deep
inside the realm of imagination,
a terror I am familiar with,
a terror I despise more than
clowns, darkness, or heights,
but the monster
I see it there on the wall,
and it’s alone, watching me.
I feel it course through my limbs,
my skin tingles and shrieks
in anger, anticipation, anxiety
for the monster is there
with its fangs readied and
its poison enthusiastic and
anticipating when I will try
to snatch it from its solitude.
I hate this monster very much.
