Post - it

where the wild things come from

They blink across the room at him
And smile at him with razor fangs.
Eyes glassy black, the demons three
Wreak havoc in the house, one hangs
On a picture frame, his family
Shatters to glass on the floor,
One dances around wildly, and one
Slams the windows and latches the door.
The room is thick with the stench of meat,
He sees dense clouds of laughing gas.
The monsters, they stink, they all smell
Of arson fires and lovers past.
Poor boy, what torment he must face as he tries
To kill his demons. He takes his gun, shoots,
And misses, so he heaves a bottle, it then flies
And explodes into a million shards of sharp.
Finally, at the end of the destruction
The demons go back
Into his skull, his brain,
That's where they attack.
That's where they were conceived,
That's where they were nurtured,
That's where all demons come from.