Waking does not dispel
Such conventional horrors.
This shame, these secrets
Upon which I asphyxiate.
The scent of loneliness
Like a harbor
That does not anchor
The ships employed.
You pass into me
Assume my mannerisms
Without question of origin.
Row after row of blasphemous suits
An increasingly ill-fitting wardrobe.
A denser and less communicative core.
I step in and out of your memory
As a cicada usurps its carapace
Alone, I understand
That the only monster is fear.
Your eyes are unlit charcoals
A necrotic dust
That devours in dissemination.
When you look at me
I see my soul,
A suppurating hollow
Into which dead things fall.
A kiss that draws blood
And splinters of bone
As if the donor
Were only a meal.
Wherever the armor holds
There is sure to be a demon.
Within each closed heart
A Zenos splits its maw
With each succulent morsel
With each salt starched scale
He grows thinner, hungrier
Soon there will be nothing
Left of me to tell




We had to create a monster and then write about it and although my entry is dark I thought this was a fabulous and unique prompt. I gave my monster a somewhat alien look because I had a frightening dream about aliens recently. I was in bed, in my room and looking out the windows as I often do. The world was out of sync it kept shifting up and down. The sun had a strange diseased appearance and was only as bright as the moon. The sky looked like it was bleeding oil and there were strange alien-like shadows in the windows/on the balcony. Entities of some sort that weren’t quite in my dimension but who had a very strong malevolent aura about them. I whispered to Sam “Have you looked outside?” and he says to me “Yes but I’m more worried about what’s at the foot of the bed.” and then I woke up. I can only say you had to be there to understand how scary it was!


This about how when depressed we make our world smaller and smaller