In The Arms Of The Monster Under The Bed, I Sit, Watching My Insides And Grinning Sinisterly At The Other

in the arms of the monster under the bed, i sit, watching my insides and grinning sinisterly at the other monster. the room shifts, swallows me, and spits me out like a vengeful brother worthy of punishment. my foot slips into rooms increasingly strange and filthy. i want to dance as if the end of the world didn’t come as predicted in two thousand fourteen, in slow-mo, and you with your headphones over your ears like a rogue pirate bored of reality, to hold me when i fall and bring me back to normality.