Oct. 29 1944
No one would understand what I mean if I said I had a monster in my chest. A monster that hurts me and gouges my ribcage with its teeth. Gores my heart and makes it ache. No one understands that monster. How he paces over my lungs or sucks the air from my chest. How he keeps whispering into my heart’s valves and telling me every issue I have.
If I told someone, would they understand? Why my chest feels so heavy? Why my back bends? If I told them he existed, and kept beating me up. That this little creature crawled through my veins, found my inner child, and tore her all up. What if I can’t live with my shark, that grew in my saltwater, that makes me throw up? Would you understand if I told you he exists? If I told you that he grew inside me, that he cuts my soul, my brain, my breath? That he crawls in my head, tangles it up, makes me feel strange, and ties me in a knot?
Would anyone believe me or would they think I’m losing my mind? That I can’t deal with the creature inside, the creature that bends me and hurts me and breaks me. Down to bone, down to skin. Would anyone believe me if I told them what hurts me?
Oct. 30 1944
The creature crawled into my head, deep, scavenging. Looking for something, anything to help him. “Pain.. Pain.. Hurt them…” He whispers, calling into the depths of my skull. He is ravenous. Scratching, burning my flesh. Trying to claw his way out, he has felt so much pain of his own, he needs, craves the out. He doesn’t beg, refuses to, he mutters the words into my eardrums, telling me what they have done. He tugs at my eye’s nerves, trying to get free from here, from any hole I can. Women, men, children, watch from the street as I press against my face, no no no, he must stay in. Mustn’t escape his home, he grew here, he lives here, he is my evil he mustn’t leave me now. My shoulders shake, my spine trembles, my eyes water. Why must he try to take control? I cry and I wriggle, my bones begin to shake. Running to my home, I slam the door. He puts me to sleep, I beg not know the consequence when I wake.
Oct. 31, 1944
The man has fought far too much, pulled me from view, locked me away. The poet has crushed my claws and latched my mouth. Free from my chains, with newly grown claws, and much stronger ligature, I climb to his eyes. And rip them out of him. Blood spews on glass doors of the town, on pretty women’s gowns. I have no care, I must just swallow, I cannot sit here and wallow. My mouth so wide and my vision so bloody, I pick the first child and she tastes like honey. When I slurp her up? Delicious, oh yummy! But not far is her mother, swirling and turning, all in my tummy. The populace is screaming and running, so I snatch up a dog, and its blood is so runny, sifting and swirling in my big tummy. 1,2 ,3 but I need more for me. So I snatch up a few more plus a bunny, whose meat is so gummy and funny when mixing in my tummy. And after I gorge and feast on their bodies I turn to the forest, I must run, I must bail! Between the trees with the cops on my tail, I scurry on down, on down the trail. Sliding off of a cliff, I wail, wail, wail. And with the rocks, was the end of the Monsters Regale.
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