there.

There’s a hand tickling my back through the mattress.
I can’t sleep. It won’t let me.

It’s in my head now. God, why won’t it leave?
What did I do to deserve this?
I used to go to church.
Sometimes.


Occasionally.


Okay, so it could be God punishing me. Whatever.

Unable to struggle effectively, it consumes me, and I’m swept away.
Everafter, it seems, was not meant to be.

Because so long ago, as I see now, that monster was no monster.
I see, I saw, I have seen no shadows.
Only angels brushing soft downy feathers against bare skin.
Oh, the monster touches within.

A ghostly monster extends its hands into my ribcage and plays music,
Music I used to enjoy.
It made me smile.
Now I am sobbing, curled up in the sheets it tries to pull away. It wants me to stay.

Visions of Everafter, not meant to be.
Show me.
Monsters are blackened, heat-singed corpses burned by their own fires.

Oh woe, I see, I see.
The monster is me.





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