It’s bliss like this that usually leads

The monsters on,

Lets the nightmares pick up the scent

Of pleasure

And chase it from its damp and dingy cave.

And I ran from you as hard as my

Chicken legs would allow,

But I kind of knew from the start

Those circles wouldn’t get me far.

And you were there, holding me under

Your lazily unfocused microscope

With only the tip of your index finger,

Ignoring my wrigglings and sighs

And all the while, I was just wondering

Where you were going with all of this.

Then you decided to disagree with the odds

That hate my favor, and become my favor,

And ever since, I’ve been waiting

For the monsters to move their pawns.

I figured they’d be hiding out under your bed,

Waiting for my head to really settle on

your pillow.

I figured they’d be in the woods, hiding

Behind the boulder we’re leaning against.

I figured they’d be hiding inside of my chest,

Just waiting for you to fuck up

And forget my first name

So they could emerge and suck you dry.

But maybe they’re not coming.

Maybe they’re not coming at all.