Poetry · Writing


I heard them creeping at night,

the monster underneath your bed,

you saw it in the mirror

in your coffee in the morning

in the eyes of your lover you left in bed.

Its crippling;

but you can’t park in that close spot

someone won’t push you around

this time.

The monster follows you around at work

hates the clothes on your back

the food that you eat

the women your loving

the women your fucking.

Wish you could tell this beast to fuck off

pick on someone your own size,

but it doesn’t exist.

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