Angels Dancing with Monsters

The Monster In the Corner.

Tick once, tick twice. Tick goes a clock in the corner. Tap goes the pen four desk over. Click goes the heels passing in the halls. Noises. I hear them all. They aren't overwhelming. I hear them. I hear my sigh. The own tick of my brain. I smell cheap fragrances and unshowered bodies. I listen to the reading of old English recited by my professor.

I feel the emotion slipping in my eyes for those who want to see. They don't want to see.

None of them can see it. It. The monster over there. In the corner by the ticking clock. Tick Tick Tick. I'm not here. I'm above myself looking around as always. The boy beside me talks. I smile. I don't really know what he is saying. Doesn't matter.

The monster in the corner writes about me. Usqed too. I did as well but monsters shouldn't be glorified. It wasn't always a monster. It used to be-- doesn't matter. It is a monster.

The monster has a friend. The fallen angel. I like angels. Angels comfort me. Angels seem like they care. Maybe, it's another monster over there in the corner with a ticking clock. 

The angel allows me to spend hall with it. We don't talk. Just work or read.  I can see the angel. Describing is different. The angel has many mask. It changes with the seconds of the day. The angel guides me to the next hour. It holds my hand in lose grip. We sit close to the back row.

Behind me is the ghoul. The ghoul is privileged. The ghoul turns it's back faster than a fox. I don't like the ghoul. The ghoul played me once. Now it taunts me when the angel isn't around.

I think around the peer's desk that surrounded me. These people didn't matter either. They are all just fillers for the important ones. 

There are two more that no one can see. I call them the fools. There alike with the angel. They mean good fun.  They tell jokes of the 20th century. Edgy but relatable. I like the fools 

Angel, it. It speaks close to me now. It lingers longer. It teases farther. The angel laughs at my jokes. I like the angel.

The monster is seen after long goes angel and the fools. I do not want to see the monster. Monster pushes. Monster makes me feel sick with its marked neck and lie of charms. The monster speaks words of slur and talk of false. I cannot escape the monster for it is always by me. Monster used to be my definition of beauty. Monster was the original one. It showed up first. A year or so ago. 

I was doing something called astral projection. I was just starting to flicker. My view of the world changed every few seconds. I would rather see my self than the world from my eyes. It soon stopped showing me my eyes sight of the world. I could only see from above. 

It felt strange. I, myself was the same but the world around me felt different. Then it showed up. I'd see only short glances at it. It's aura was new. It made me nervous. It had my attention and it knew it. I like to think it took advantage of that in some way. Like eventually, it knew its name would be monster and it wanted a damn good reason for it to be.  I don't blame it though. I couldn't. I'll simply stick with calling it monster and trying to survive its whispers of things that are no more.