3am monster slither around me
They whisper, their thoughts infest my mind.
I feel their cruel touch, oppressive
And it weighs heavy on my skin, tingling with
Familiar need and desire.
Their master is waiting just outside my door
It will not keep him out long.
I hear him pacing the hall, waiting.
Like a child I curl under my blanket
Clutch it tight around me
And whisper to myself over and over again,
“I don’t believe in monsters, I don’t believe.”
Already I know they are real.
Sickness pricks at my belly.
Bile is a familiar taste on my tongue.
When the door opens I must face him
There is no escape as he slithers in,
The smell of him is enough to freeze me.
His touch is hot and burning
He kiss, his want, bruising.
My skin is much too cold to take that touch
One day blisters will be on my skin,
Instead of bruises.
The hour comes and goes
And I thanks gods I do not believe in
When it has passed.
Used and battered, my mind is screaming.
I find the metal switch to shut it off,
Its heavy and cold against my burned flesh.
Sometimes when I see it,
I am surprised there is any blood left in my veins.
The wailing of the monsters quiets
They retreat respectively
To the back of the closet,
Under the bed
In the dark corridors of my mind.
I pull myself back
Slowly curl my way around myself
Push down the truth
And reach for the mask that I have
Forced myself to keep wearing.
I bear his invisible cross along my back
Heavy with the weight of his sins,
One day I know I will stagger beneath it
And not be able to get up.
I just hope no one has to pick it up
And carry it the rest of the way for me.