Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god


The darkness, my once cherished friend,
Has now let the monsters in and they
Hide under my bed and in my closet.
It's impossible to rid myself of their itches and
Their growls which scare me into wakefulness.
Sleep is no longer an option.
I, myself, am a cretin wedge between silences and
Expecting the soft sound of nothing to wash away
All the grotesque that curses me.


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