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The stare digs itself six feet deep into my brain
So irrevocably there
The scowl greets itself onto their face
Hawk eyes scan all around
Pinpointing all the errors,mistakes, blunder
Capturing the events unfolding
Storing it into library with the thousand locks, on the outside and inside.
So that it can be used for future reference
For future analysis
As they quarantine themselves into their library
The books enough to feed their undying hunger
To learn of secrets untold
And the videos enough for their thirst
To witness those very secrets
an uncanny asylum.
Complete with all the fucking keys they need
To twist and turn into the door knobs of homes, to lock the owners inside, while he holds the rifles at the windows outside
To become the thing children fear under their beds
The main character of the horror stories parents tell their children to stop them from misbehaving.
And my youth identifies me as one of those children,
As one of those whose memories are plagued with the monster from under the bed.
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