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.