Monster- Rudy Fransisco Poem by Frederik Layun

One day,
My little cousin asked me
if I believed in monsters.

I smiled.
I then grabbed the truth
by its collar,
I wrestled it to the ground,
tucked it deep
underneath my arm
and I said,
"Love, you know monsters aren't real."

And it's times like this,
where I wish that my sentences
came with receipts so
I could take back my words.

I wasn't being completely honest.

When I spoke to her
I almost choked on a secret
that has been stapled
to the inside of my throat
for longer than I can remember.
Not only do I believe in monsters,
but I've seen them whisper themselves into existence.

I heard they carve nightmares
into the eyelids of the innocent
and linger in dark corners
preying on the unsuspecting.
Somehow,
they've figured how to crawl through
8 millimeter film
and walk backwards into the dreams
of those who've never been afraid to sleep.

I believe in monsters the same way I believe in oxygen.

So how big is your closet?
How much space is underneath
the beds you shake in the middle of the night?
You are a vampire.
A werewolf in sheep's clothing.
You swallow halos and spit out nooses.
How can I not believe in monsters,
when I see men like you,
walking with your knuckles scraping against the concrete?
You stand perched on the screams of assaulted women
and squeeze into costumes
that fool the public into thinking you're human.
How dare you have the audacity to impersonate me?

How dare you pretend
as though there isn't a woman out there
scrubbing the inside of her thights
until they turn stop sign red
trying to erase your fingerprints from her skin?
How dare you believe your blood is just as blue as mine?
When you speak
I can small Dante's Inferno on your breath.

I've spent the last three months
trying to figure out how you escaped from hell
and wasted too many nights
thinking of painful ways I can send you back.
I carved galaxies in the back of my throat
just to make your world easier for me to swallow
but I can't stand the taste of your behavior.

Every time you cross my path
I get the urge to tie you to a chair,
cover you in gasoline
and set your body on fire.

I am no Van Helsing
but I've seen enough horror movies
to know how to get rid of you.

But I know even if I killed you,
there are still millions of monsters out there.
Pretending to be men.