All The Monsters

I wake up, but not awake.
I can’t unsee what I see.
I’m followed into consciousness.
Stalked and hunted by monstrous shadows.
With every effort, I walk to rooms and do what I need to.
I return to my place on the shelf.
I dart my eyes, paranoid. My teeth chatter and click together.
I can smell the raw sewage from the plant in the next city.
I can hear the fog horns on the Ohio river, fifty yards away.
The house shakes as a train breaks in the train yard across from my home. I hear the engine screaming to a halt. The electric Ozone and diesel smell mixed with thousands of tons of coal. The locomotives thrive…
I hear the small whispers of the shadows…
I can’t quite make out what they are saying…
All the sounds, all the silence, all the monsters.
All of me…

T.L Stafford


  1. All of you.
    All of those other things… even the monsters… might taste a little more of their own beauty in your wake –
    simply because you looked into all of you, and shared it.
    (But then, I’m bat shit crazy, too, so don’t be taking my word for it)

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