You say that you loved me,

but your absence spoke loudly.

It's hard to comprehend

how you didn't stand proudly.

When I made my life shine,

you kept your distance still.

When my life imploded,

you left a hole to be filled.

I needed your counsel,

but mostly, I needed you.

I needed your presence,

to help me make it through.

Whatever your reasons,

they died along with you.

No hope now for some day

to be good enough for you.

You buried your father

with the same realization.

Now I carry the burden,

the undeserved shame

Of knowing my father

did not really want me;

No other conclusion

your absence has taught me.

Penis, penis, o penis so fine,

Penis, o penis, I'm so glad that you're mine!

Rock hard and throbbing or limp like a noodle,

You make me slobber and shake like a poodle.

Penis so wonderful in my mouth and tongue,

I look at you and think, "Holy shit, he's hung!"

Just thick enough and not too long

I love you so dearly, you fabulous schlong.

Boner, penis, dick, rod, or cock,

Whatever you call it, my world it does rock.

The thought of losing you brings tears to my eyes,

And I thank God daily that you're circumsized.

So here ends my poem and here I will stop,

With a sigh of relief that you're not a top.

violence

sadness

and some more of both

led me down a path

i never thought i'd go

comment after comment

some praise, some funny

to think i'd do all this work

and not care if i made money

to balance around school

to make sure that i write

but to work on what I love

always feels just right

to type out all my fears

and fantasies, and tears

my deep dark thoughts

that i hide from everyone else

i can show them off here

like a game of show and tell

so 100 posts later

and then 100 posts more

i'll keep writing the sadness

and horror, and gore

and so much more

The monster under my bed has changed colors many times during my life. Each stage of living has brought with it growth and experience, and as a result, my monster has worn many coats and appeared in many forms.

When I was young, it was black, and its name was SOLITUDE. It lurked in the shadows and threatened to take away my parents. They were my world, and the thought that I might lose them gave my monster teeth. It knew how to bare them too, and it made me hide under the covers.

As I grew, it became the brown of mud and dirt, and its name was HUMILIATION. It knew I was smaller than the other kids, and scared of many of them. It loved to see me get pushed down to its level where it leered at me, laying prone and helpless, laughing along with the other kids.

In my teenage years it became red, and its name was LUST. It was mysterious and held out the promise of delights unseen and pleasures unimagined. It found joy in my rejection, and teased me mercilessly because I could do so little about it.

As a young man, it turned green, and changed its name to JEALOUSY. It lurked in public places, and taunted me in the leers of those who wanted my partner. Reflected in their eyes, it whispered in my ear that she wanted them as well.

In middle age, it was yellow, and went by PRIDE. It threatened at every turn to destroy everything I worked for, and more than once turned me away from the path that would have brought me rewards untold.

Eventually, it turned blue. It grew long fingers that reached all the way back in time, and its name was REGRET. It made me hate many parts of myself, and waste precious moments wishing things had been different, laughing the whole time at the futility it generated.

Finally, I learned to see it for what it was. It had no true color, but was made up of the worst ideas and habits that I possessed the entire time. It was a reflection, and it’s true name had always been FEAR. It had stood in my way and caused me to veer off course many, many times.

Once I knew its name, I faced it head on. I realized I had allies against the monster. I drew on the shield of FAITH, the sword of TRUTH, and the armor of TRUE LOVE. Thus prepared I slayed the monster, and as it exploded in a cascade of shining white light, I glimpsed the face of God behind it, telling me I had done well.

So, what color is your monster?

-----------------------—

© 2023 - dustygrein

(This is an updated reposting of a challenge entry from earlier this year, to describe the monster under the bed.)

NOTE:

Dear Prose Family,

I haven't seen some of you on the tag list I posted below in a long time, but I would like to see how many of you are still actively doing your thing. Please drop me a smiley face, or a p/m to let me know you are here

- Dusty

“Jameson.” I called out into the empty room.

“Say it.” A fragmented voice responded flatly.

“I don’t want to.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to make the walls bleed.”

“I don’t want you to make the walls bleed. The clean-up is a nightmare.”

“Then I won’t entertain the ghost hunters.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Dramatic? I’m sorry, did you get your skull cracked by a jealous John?”

“That was a hundred years ago. Wait. A hundred and seven. As of tomorrow.”

“Say it. Or I tell the governor’s mistress to keep her head on. “

“Fine. OH, GREAT LORD BRYANT OF THE TOWERS EAST. I SUMMON THEE. KNOCK THREE TIMES IF YOU ACCEPT MY HUMBLE REQUEST. Happy?”

“More enthusiasm next time. But it’ll do.” Three rapid fire knocks came from the top of my desk. A translucent figure rose from within the oak, its shimmery face staring at me with a smug look.

“Thank you. The tour starts in a few minutes. Is everyone ready?”

“The manic milkmaid is in the kitchen. The gunshot twins swapped spots with the butchered butler.”

“Is that gonna work?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Loosely.”

“Keep talking like that, and I’ll cross over to the other side. You’re lucky your uncle isn’t here. I’m surprised he didn’t stick around.”

I glanced at the tear-away calendar on the wall. Tomorrow would mark the one month anniversary of my uncle's passing. “I’m not. Uncle Jess wasn’t exactly the lingering type. And apparently not one to divulge certain kinds of information.”

“I found your uncle to be quite thorough.”

“Yeah, well. Would have been nice to know that I was inheriting a staff of specters.”

“'Staff of specters'? That’s good, Tom. You should put that in the advertisements.”

A rush of cold air swept through the managerial office of the Sparkling Drop Hotel. The glittering figure of a buxom young woman materialized in front of me.

“Master Tom! Master Jameson! We have a terribly worrisome situation in the basement!”

“What’s going on, Dahlia?”

“Some girls slipped away from the tour group. They’re toying with some sort of strange board-”

I felt Jameson’s cold eyes settle on me.

“-then one of the girls fell to the ground and began shaking violently-

I met the ethereal gaze of my specter-in-command. He grimaced– as well as a ghost can grimace, anyway.

“-speaking in some tongue I’ve never heard!”

"I see. Thank you, Dahlia."

“Everything is so dark and menacing!”

“They must have really summoned something terrible.”

“I was speaking of their attire, sir.”

“...right. I’ll call down and stop the tour. Say there’s a gas leak or something. Dahlia, warn the others.”

The comely spirit gave me a shimmery nod and slipped her translucent body back through the wall.

Jameson's lofty voice wafted through the thickening air. “Very good, Tom. I’ll gather the haunts.”

“Hey, Jameson. One thing. Before we go down.”

“Yes, Tom?”

“Why does the milkmaid talk like that and you speak…normally?”

“Well, Tom. I’ve always been one to keep up with the trends. Now. Are you ready to descend?”

I opened the door to the lobby, diaphragm prepped to bellow falsehoods aimed to spare the living.

"So like...what's your deal?"

"My deal?" A shit-eating smirk slid across Mills' face.

"Yeah. You know. What are you, like, into?" Ree was beginning to lose her nerve.

"Oh. I don't know. Little of this. Little of that. Got kicked out for thinking about anything other than dudes." Mills began to fiddle with the tip of the shortest spike in her fiercely gelled mohawk.

"So...bi?"

"Hey, man. If I'm into it, I'm into it. No need to overthink things." Mills raised a single eyebrow. "Why, you fishin'?"

" Well, no, I mean, maybe-"

"Then chill. Just do what ya feel."

She said

It was one of the best weekends she’s had in a long time

She spent it with her sister

Her sister, whom she loves

The same sister that took her husband

And with him, ten years of her life

And she struggled with the offense

But with the help of God, she finally forgave

And this same sister, whom she loves

Will very likely

Never hear of the offense again

For the rest of their lives

When will this suffering end?

Will you finally see me

standing in your shadow?

Or will I have to stumble on

alone and wounded,

trying to find something real,

something I can cling to

to pull me out of this quicksand.

Or will I just keep sinking,

the world around me

turning black and closing in

until I suffocate,

trying to pull in air

but only breathing sand and rock

and gasping and gagging

until the end comes

like much needed rest.

Janey didn’t take shit from anyone, but, as she always asserted, she didn’t like being an asshole either.

It was a beautiful spring day at the end of May as she rounded the corner to turn right, she banked a little too wide and ended up in the middle of the sidestreet, where she saw the biker coming down the middle as well. She corrected her course to the right to allow the biker more room. The biker moved over as well to his side. As she passed the biker, she smiled to further the kind courtesy shared by those who share the road. The biker gave her a horrible entitled face that nearly yelled, “You better move over. I’m a biker and have priority over you, gas-guzzling bitch.”

Janey turned sharply to the left in a mock attempt to hit him. The biker’s face immediately changed from one of smugliness to one of horror as he jerked his bike away in horror. Janey made sure that he hadn’t crashed before she erupted into laughter.

“What now, douchebag?” said Janey to her rear view mirror, “What now?”

You have agitated my patience, my love

please, just a few more moments for myself here.

Children –

calm your cries and play some games,

I’m really getting to the good part here.

The doorbell now?

There are unexpected guests and now

mom’s calling randomly just to check in.

Sigh.

One day, me, one day I will find the time for myself

to keep my nose steady in reading this book. Uninterrupted.