monsters

i don't know what to do about the monster in my brain that eats my thoughts and tears my heart until i nothing but a bundle of sad rags, ripped and cloaked in lies. it sits there, and i cry but all the tears do is give it strength it feasts on my unexposed flesh devours my hands until they are not my own until they are the ones holding the knife or my nails are the monsters claws until my nails are just my nails and i am scratching the monster needs to get out somehow one way or another it must leave i need to purge myself of whatever is living within me my toes slowly curl until bile rises in my throat lips peel and life moves on and i wish i wasn't the monster has eyes, at least i think it does it sees everything i see, maybe more it twists it into what i assume is the truth it's awful, but not wrong i do deserve it, i murmur until my intestines slip out my mouth, my heart jumps through my stomach and the monster takes control of my wants it wants me all of me the slow curls of thoughts form into quick bonfires as my hands unwittingly trace the blade when cool metal touches my stomach i know better than to cry the monster doesn't deserve that right now only i do, for ever believing that the monster was real for thinking that i was not in control am i in control? do my thumbs release the silver by themselves or does the monster do that, too? was i ever in control was the monster? staggering breaths reach my feeble ears they are my own, and the monster the monster hears them too and it is fading whisps of who knows what circle me the monster regrets something, i think i can't think help me please, i almost cry i don't want to die. the monster roars and i wonder if it has wishes, either i am useless to my own creation i dont know what to do the monster dies i dont want to, but i was never in control