The Monster

The presence is so constant it spent lifetimes invisible,

A growing, thriving, thrashing demon, so very difficult to define by name.

I sit, suddenly aware I am not alone in even my most private moments.

Suddenly aware there is a voice calling from the darkest caverns of my brain, poisonous, venomous devious beast.

Bridge burner, stomach churner, voice of reason overturner.

Tears standing ready, ever vigilant, troops in a platoon of panther like paradigms,

Sowing seeds of perversity that grow their roots deep.

I spent hour after hour thrashing with this diabolic fracture in the mirror of my mind,

Hours to days, days to months, months to years, years to lifetimes,

Lifetimes to eternities.

Even with the last candle upon my mantle burning lower and lower, the wick tasting the sweet arms of oblivion;

It continues to burn, long past its time

And yet, does oblivions kiss not taste so sweet?

Does its wanton beckon not tantalize and tempt?

Yes.

The longing is as persistent as the demon is,

To no longer see the life so carefully constructed come apart at the seams,

To no longer feel the devastating depths of solitude and the instinctive rejection of company.

Pondering how is as complex as pondering why,

How did this happen, why does this happen.

When all that is craved is silence.