Monstrosities?

Haven't you seen,
The way the teeth glean?Haven't you breathed,
The dank deep scent,

Of death itself?

Haven't you been into the caves of night,
Where days of delight,
Suddenly play into fright?

Don’t you recall the feel,
Of light being the only succor?
Your only savior,
From being something’s supper!

To whom, or what, you ask?
O classification’d be a monstrous task,

Yes indeed,
One of monstrous proportions,
For they shift between infinite contortions,
With anomalies as great as the mind desires;
They are designed to drive us to perspire.

They conform to what terrifies us,
What shakes and breaks our souls,
What makes a man take a gun to his head,
Trying to kill the very memory of them.

They can be large,
Slimy, slime bawls,
Crawly creepies,

Or they can be worms in your mind,
Eating away your memories,
Brain tissue, too,
Then your ocular nerves,
And then your blind!

They are creatures of nightmares--
That is where most are incubated!
Doubt is the seed,
And imagination the egg.

They are a product of the unchaste mind,
Conspiring against thy loyal lover--
The conscious!
You, me!

O the bastardous imagination!
Can it not sew its mouth shut?
Can you or me,
Not sleep a wink in peace?

Where,
Can these grimness’ of silence,
That reap the mind of violence,

Be left to find?
That is,
Once they are birthed?

They thrive upon emptiness,
Which is why night is so appealing to them,
And it allows them to survive anywhere,
In caves and dark dank spaces.

O your closet!
What of it?
What lurks behind the door?
What beady eyes watch,
From between the cracks,
Your every move and more?

Under your bed!
No matter how much you clean,
It’s never cleansed!
O no!
There’s an infestation,
No fumigation could render!

A burgeoning monstrous nest,
Enveloped in neon green effluvia,
Laid by mother monster,
They’re ready to hatch and hunt--

What travesties of nature's will,
Capable of comprising equilibriums’ still,
Squirm within that sac?

What obscenities never analyzed by man,
That be able to pale and silence,
Darwin himself--

Gestate within that green slime ball?

The disgusting placenta may often or not,
Strangely resemble a human thought.

It be not simple to say,
What mutatuated mistakes are in it,
For they have names in ample,
But a few we know and love,
Be named:

Fattening Predators, Anatomy editors
Freddy Kruegers, Hungry Cougars,
Ax men, Jack the Ripper,
Bad men, Zach the zipper,

A few more,
Which have been dreamed for centuries,
Be:

Kraken of the deep, Stabber in your sleep,
Werewolves and Vampires,
Witches afire on pyres,
Hydras and serpents beneath your feet

Now you imagine yourself,
Alone and scared,
Calling into the dark:

“Wherever hath you been my dear?

Here's Johnny?
Is he here for me,
Do I look like a zombie?”

Now you're asleep--
Stabbers, Chainsaws, Stalkers,
All beneath your bed,
In your closet in the night,
In the cave--
echo about right?

Now you're running,
Away and away--
Hear that chainsaw revving and purring?
See the eight armed shadow,
Flickering and flying upon the wall?
Roars and grunts in a dying call?

Do you hear me now?
Static on the TV
Eyes red bleeding

Clown’s head spins around
Red lips lie a smirk
Chattering laughter cries out

Chairs go aloft in the loft,
Lights flipped on and off
Walls seep blood all out

Poltergeists cry in the night
Shadows fly behind the light
They strike with blinding might

The dead smite thy child!

Now the blood’s on your hands!

You’re startled by the splat, crack of the mirror,

Look over at it,
Bloody handprints smaller than your own,
Go off the mirror;
They were dragged from your grasp
Taken far from here,
Now all you have are your bloody tears,
And open arms.

Wipe off some of the blood,
Finally leave the mirror clear and functioning,

Now retch at the horrifying sight,
Of the worst monster of any kind,

A kind with two buggy eyes,
Sickeningly soft fleshy skin,
And a debilitating lack of morals,

The universe never desired,
To accompany the grace of power.