16d • General discussion
The Monster That Knows My Name
Paranoia crawls out of the dark again,
not a feeling this time
but a creature
all ribs and whispers,
all teeth made of
unfinished thoughts.
It follows me
through parking lots,
dragging its shadow
like a wet coat,
sniffing the air
for the fear
I pretend I don’t have.
The addicts bent forward
like question marks
see it before I do.
They flinch,
twitch,
mutter warnings
to the pavement.
They know monsters.
They’ve danced with worse.
Paranoia’s eyes glow
like police flashlights,
blue and red
pulsing in its skull,
searching me
for crimes
I haven’t invented yet.
It breathes
against my neck
when I try to sleep,
its breath
cold enough
to make my thoughts
frost over.
It whispers
that the world is watching,
then laughs
a sound like metal bending.
It grows bigger
every time I look away.
It grows smarter
every time
I pretend I don’t hear it.
And the truth
I hate the most?
The truth that sticks?
The monster isn’t hunting me.
It’s guarding me.
It thinks I belong to it.
It thinks
it’s the only thing
that truly sees me.
And maybe,
in the dark,
that’s almost true!
3
7 comments
The Monster That Knows My Name
