The Beast Within: A Prose Poem

My Beast is the demon of the stars. He lives within me, a cancerous tumor festering on my inner soul, feeding on my dearest hope and secreting dread and anxiety. I try to keep him hidden, but he also lives above, twisting my destiny. He is hard to miss: he stands tall, forging the cosmos into gold and titanium knives and using them to make sharp his teeth. His claws rip and bleed black holes, his wing's motion triggers the meteor's fall, and his fiery breath breeds the Northern Lights. He is Chaos and Temptation, Fear and Fantasmic, Envy and Fate. He guides each step I take, drawing me by heartstrings bound by stardust and suspect. 

I wish that you could guard the stars. I wish that you could take his place and dismantle his tyrannic throne. I wish to free myself from the heartstring's snare, but our hands combined cannot even move mountains, can barely make snow fall or turn the fridged wind. You are weak to the likeness of my Beast, my envious angel, my beautiful demon. For he is the wise manipulator, the tragic desire, the cursed song. And he will always win.