Monster is living inside of me

behind my ribcage,

she curls herself around my spine

draws her fingers to my throat

to stroke my collarbone,

to deliver raspy breath to my ear

repeating the words

on which I always choke –

my name, my wants, my needs,

my apologies, my fury –

and the dust from the bones

she’s grinding with a gummy jaw.

Sometimes she sinks down

to bask in the darkness of my womb,

recline in my pelvis

and drag her nails up my thighs

and down my calves, towards my feet

where she binds me with manacles,

shrieking maniacally

words garbled with my sins –

breathing, praying, hoping,

talking, waiting –

for this torture to end,

for Monster living in my head

and the hollows of my heart,

to vanish and leave me

to play dead.

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Kristiana Reed day dreams, people watches in coffee shops, teaches English…