monster meal

sometimes, the monsters we fear most aren't under our beds — they're stitched inside our own skin.

monster meal was born from that feeling of being consumed by my own darkness, until i became the thing that feeds it.

the hunger we fear most is the one we feed ourselves.

i let my fears swallow me whole

my mental state is out of control

i follow them, they feed my soul

touch my skin: feel less cold

they crawl inside my every bone

i let them in: feel less alone

bleeding veins, wont let them go

now the monsters only grow,

an infection that’s taken hold

and yet, aware i keep them close,

in darkness, they haunt

they impose, and they taunt

scared they’ll vanish, might not be real

plus im famished, iv made my meal

i let my fears swallow me whole

my mental state is out of control

i follow them, they feed my soul

touch my skin: feel less cold

the only meal, i really chew

tasting lies to make them true

the fear, i wont set free

dont want to heal, so i let them be

i let them fester, till they boil

till my brain will start to spoil

hurtful names that they cry,

every one all named shy,

all the monsters i won’t deny,

tasting tears, till i smile

scary sounds, almost vile

but its mostly just denial

i made the choice

all on my own

drowned out noise,

of what i called home

i let my fears swallow me whole

my mental states, out of control

i follow them, they feed my soul

touch my skin, feel less cold

they crawl inside my every bone

invited sin inside to roam

they feast from off my soul

the fear of a fatal foul

im over it.

11/01/2024

maybe survival isn’t about slaying the monsters — maybe it’s about starving them.

what feeds your monsters?

if you feel like it, tell me below. 🖤