I loved those big scary monsters
They loved me back.
They made my skin flush,
And I wanted to crawl out of it, most of the time.
I fed off the guilt,
A new strain of hunger.
We both sought after the disgustingness of it all.
I felt it and felt it and felt it
until it knocked me the hell out
and when I came back...
I was on the other side.
I
Am the monster now
Oh,
This is what it felt like for them.
I break her into two, mind and body
And I want to put both into jars upon a shelf.
A collection.
This is mine now.
This is the monster's hand around her throat.
This is the boy you turned into,
that you have been turning into
this whole time.
This is the boy, and the hidden girl, the victim, the predator and its prey, and the criminal, and the evil god who isn't real but must have done this to you, looking at each other,
all just looking at each other,
looking around, all wide eyed and crazy-
and the older i get,
the harder it hits me,
they're looking at me. they're all looking
at me.
YOU ARE READING
Everything left to complain about (stopped) (go read my other poem book)
PoetryPoems and strings of words that don't qualify as poems, from all four years of high school until the summer after freshman year of college. My recent works and anything I continue to write can be found in my new poem book, "Open your hands and say s...
