Did you embrace the shadow I became?
My quiet hands, still tethered to grace.
The world whispers, shaping me in flame.
Fangs grow where soft words once took their place.
My quiet hands, still tethered to grace,
Hold against ruin, the weight of despair.
Fangs grow where soft words once took their place,
Yet tenderness lingers beneath the glare.
Hold against ruin, the weight of despair.
Is my kindness lost, devoured by grief?
Yet tenderness lingers beneath the glare—
Monsters are myth, born seeking relief.
Is my kindness lost, devoured by grief?
The world whispers, shaping me in flame.
Monsters are myth, born seeking relief.
Did you embrace the shadow I became?
When I was younger
I wanted to be friends
with the monsters under my bed
Now I am terrified of these monsters
in my head
Breathing is second nature
I know that much to be true
but how these monsters choke up
when I look at you
I try to count sheep
to help me fall asleep
but when I dream
all I dream
is worshipping at your feet
You have everything to me
perfect hair, perfect smile
when they say
walk a mile
it truly is a trial
because
for all I can see
you have everything to me
So, I can try to be the friend
to these monsters in my head
but I know in the end
these monsters are just like me
these monsters don't like me
When faced with monsters
The inner universe in me
Opens up its portals
And plays for me
Ethereal sounds
Engulfing me in waves
So huge, so rogue
That my soul gets immersed
In a world where there exists
Only me and my God
Engaged in endless games of love!
When I am faced with monsters,
The skies refuse to turn dark,
Rather, they sparkle with silvery hues
And echo of songs
Sung by celestial beings
All caring solely for the wellbeing
Of Earth and its many children
Who, like me, cannot care about
The gruesome sight of monsters
And when those monsters pounce
My guardian angel mutters spells
And annihilate the very minute particles
Of monsters, who are never meant to be seen
In the arena of Existence again
For monsters
Have not their place in a realm which
Is meant to be replica of the garden
Where God Himself resides!
When you're faced with monsters in a small space
Of claustrophobic dread of darkness, a crawlspace,
It stalks the quiver, narrow graves' breaths of fear.
Strangling the heart's soul as it swallows a tear.
The whimper within the small casket adheres.
Until you stab the caged beast inside, resolve.
It feels safe when the darkened cage dissolves.
We fought with monsters and became monsters fighting the insane acting out in strange displays dancing nonsense in a cave imprisoned by a thousand lies we designed to contain a willful child, and with hammer blows and the whips we made ourselves better slaves then the slaves who came before with fevered dreams drunken prose spoken lost and broken noses, broken skulls, broken bones tore through flesh, the fear, the fear, I miss my friends, those younger days, it seemed to me we would never grow old, tired. VIXI.
Poem 17 Note. . . vixi liber et moriar: "I have lived free and I will die free"
They came at us from nowhere
and gave us quite a fright.
I was with my sister
and it was late at night.
Their forms were all horrific.
One’s face was ugly green.
I got behind my sister
to avoid being seen.
They screeched or they cackled.
It was so menacing.
I knew not to fear
although it was unsettling
I heard a loud-pitched buzzing.
Saw a grotesque looking man.
With that chain saw at my back,
from the haunted house I ran.
Pottery scattered and came to life.
I opened up that art supply closet.
Flicked locusts off of me.
The winner in me started out severed.
Fast talking, mixed up, mangled.
Something in me took off like an old billboard torn away.
I thrived.
I throve.
I thrived like miles of sick globs.
I thrived like spikes on a cloud.
I thrived like bites unspoken.
I thrived like being stapled to the wall with a gold star.
I talked as fast as they could scarf a whole seal off the beach.
A little clay figurine.
That little, monster figurine from the supply room?
Doesn’t remind me of anything special.
And yet, the chattering continues.
Flicked those locustsssss.
I thrived.
I throve.
I was mangled and covered in drool.
The children gathered around
the crackling fireplace as
Rumple Stein opened his
heavy, leather- bound book.
His voice dropped to a low,
raspy whisper that made the
shadows on the wall seem to
stretch and dance.
"Deep within the Whispering
Woods," he began, "the old
witches brew potions made
of forgotten nightmares."
He leaned forward, his eyes
gleaming in the firelight as
the wind howled outside the
window.
"They command slimy green
goblins that creep into
bedrooms to steal the
laughter of sleeping boys
and girls."
A floorboard creaked in the
hallway, making the children
jump and clutch their
blankets tight.
"But the worst myth of all,"
Rumple Stein hissed, "is the
faceless monster that hides
right under your bed."
He pointed a long, crooked
finger at the youngest boy,
whose eyes were wide with
fright.
"It waits until the room goes
completely black, listening to
the sound of your heartbeat."
With a sudden, loud SLAM of
his book, he smiled and
whispered, "Now, blow out
the candle and go to sleep."
It happened one night:
roving shadows
with impish intent
stabbing breath
under barren moon
& stars they'd pick-pocketed
from somnolent skies
faces of black aloes
engulfing two needles of light,
piercing whites, these grim eyes
& drowning me
between a musty tenant-mattress,
chest of bricks sagging
mind travailing
unfamiliar ground
in an unlit back room
yet a word
JESUS
spilled over jotty prayers
formed by the heart
melted vespertine crawlers
the monsters among me had no claws
they were shoes neatly polished
they spoke so kindly
fear could sound like care
they taught me to be obedient
to keep my questions small
locked the doors and called it freedom
they told me outside was danger
not allowed to ask them why
I learned to smile with folded hands
and trust the lies they told
but curiosity filled my mind
one small peek through stained glass
a world they told me wasn't real
once I saw the sky
I began to climb
one small step at a time
who is wrong who is right
Must escape these monsters before the bell rings
I hear the choir practicing
pick up the pace
the monsters are coming
if they find me there is no escape
I threw my Sunday heels to the floor
sprinting, panting, looking straight
I made it
the monsters are gone
I did it I escaped
In shadows that creep,
i find myself submerged
by tiny whispers echoing in stillness.
They haunt my head,
drudge my heart,
leaving raging nightmares
not just at night.
With every echo i'm in flight,
searching for an exit.
Looking for some kind of courage
to calm this raging monster.
Then moonlight appears
the air becomes thick,
and a shiver runs down my spine.
This is the moment to run
just for another night,
but i will never be able
to un-face my monsters.
Who will always live within.
There are apes and great apes
And then there are bad apes
The bad apes are the kind who do heinous crimes
Without any remorse or conscience
They lash out at the great apes
Because they know deep down
They are bad and just don’t fit
When we catch them we lock them away
And sometimes simply let them go free
When what we really need to do
Is just put them and their supporters down
For the betterment of all the other apes
(6/11/26)
I took all those nasty monsters out of your head
They all came out laughing & hid under my bed
Now I have to sleep with them all; o’ such fun
Their constant screaming, o’ how I am done
They are crawling all over me, wanting my flesh
And my moral high ground; they all want to test
I tried ignoring them; but they are all such a bore
Waiting on me to sleep to get into my inner core
These Monsters from the inside of your head
These monsters from the inside of your head
Morning comes, they have all fell asleep
From out of the bed sheets I dared to creep
I lit a match, I watched them all burn in hell
Now no longer in your head; nowhere to dwell
I finished off the monsters from the inside of your head
The ones that all hurt you and filled you with dread
I feel so much better; I hope you do too
By lessening some of your burdens by a few
From those monsters that were once inside of your head
From those monsters that were once inside of your head
From those monsters that were once inside of your head
From those monsters that were once inside of your head
Draculara the teen girlfriend of the real Drac
Always told us “I have his back”
He is really a doll, when you get to know him.
She was a monster’s moll, a real gem.
I was not sure I wanted to know Dracula though.
He walked in a saunter that was amazingly slow.
His gaze often hit me like a Viking’s blow
When he was around, I stayed at home, down below.
Real-Life Demogorgons
Life felt like Hawkins—
quiet streets hiding screaming sirens.
Mind Flayers weren’t fiction anymore;
they learned my name.
I was lost like Will,
vanished between breaths,
woke up shivering
in an Upside Down crib—
air thin, walls breathing fear.
I walked on jagged glass,
barefoot in my own thoughts.
Locked inside my skull,
my body spasmed with truths unsaid.
My mind—flayed
not by monsters,
but by my own sins.
Arggh!
I wanted out.
The Demogorgon loomed—
faceless, black, relentless.
Should I speak this pain aloud,
or bury my life
in a pit of silence?
No—
I heard footsteps of the other me,
the one who survived.
Friends became flickering lights,
stringing hope through the dark,
showing me a path I couldn’t see alone.
I was found—
not dead,
but drowning
in endless shadows,
Eaten by real-life Demogorgons
with familiar faces:
fear, shame, loneliness.
Yet here I stand—
scarred, shaking, breathing—
proof that monsters are real,
but so is salvation.
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