It dwells in the secret place,
Through a hidden entrance
In the dark.
Sometimes you forget it’s there.
But when your mind gets still,
You hear its faint cry—
“Feed me.”
If you were to see the fiend in broad daylight
It would scare you half to death.
But when you listen to its voice in the shadows
It sounds tame.
Cuddly.
Lovable.
You become convinced by its plaintive cry
That spending a few minutes stroking it might not
Be a bad thing.
The wooing voice grows more compelling the longer you listen.
You open the secret passageway,
Make sure no one is watching (yet knowing Someone is),
And turn the knob ever so quietly.
The beast does not attack you.
He presents his soft fur for you to stroke
And smiles lovingly as you do.
Though you brought him nothing to eat,
His hunger seems to subside as you linger in his dark quarters.
Pleasure overtakes you (and him) with every bite.
Were there pain as the brute’s teeth sank into your flesh,
You would run away and never return.
But it feels strangely good to be eaten alive,
And the more he consumes you,
The more you delight in it.
When the fear of being caught finally convinces you it’s time to leave,
And you step into the light once again,
The pain bursts and you cry out in remorse over
How much of you has been consumed.
The Light speaks.
“Seal up the quarters.
Demolish the secret passageway.
You know you must if you choose life.”
But the memory of the pleasure of being consumed
Compels you to let the monster live—
Just a little longer.
I won’t visit as often.
I won’t stay as long.
I can handle it.