Part of you knows me. You know, that thing lurking at the edge of your world. The ravenous thing. The creature that fed on your fears as a child. Yes, that's right, the one in the closet. You didn't realize what I was then, did you? Only when your were older, wiser, and more alone than ever before. It was then that you knew, but you couldn't verbalize.
You must think me a monster. I am. I'm your personal monster. I'm not real, eh? Your parents told you that, but you never believed them. Why play games now, with me, when I know you so well?
You cried tears into the pillow, after your parents left. The white cotton pillow. The one your mother fluffed up every night, just before your session with me. I liked those tears. No offering could have been more delicious. I licked them off your pillow, from your cheeks, your lips, your eyes. Licked you to sleep.
You should thank me. I was the only one who would ever touch you. Every one else said they loved you. I touched you. Every time you touched yourself. In your fingers, that's where I hid. Want to be touched now? There's no one who'll do it, but me and you. Together.
It was more fun as you got older. Feeding on you, that is. More pain, from your friends, family, but not from me. I would eat you when they had finished. Sucking out the hope, with deep strokes of my tongue, right there. You know where. In that heavy pit of emptiness, within your heart. Some day that will be my home. I'm sick of closets.
Did you feel me there. When the only one you ever wished to love, pushed you away. Just a little push at first. Then harder, when you didn't go. Harder, stabbing to the quick, deeply. Again. It was good for me. Was it good for you too?
Feeling a little strange now? Don't blame me. That wouldn't be fair. I didn't make you shave. Not down there. It was slick for me though, and sweet. The cuts from the razor left a small tinge of burgundy, and a slight taste of blood. The stuff of which emptiness is made. Blood and me. But that's cliché.
You surprised me, when you started to hit yourself. Some good smacks. On your shoulders, and your head. You can't drive me out. Not that way. Not with a feast. Blood and orchids. Only one thing will drive me away, and that takes guts. But you've always been a coward. Inverting yourself into that hole within. The pit that I made. Flagellate yourself all you wish. The smell is exquisite, and I only grow stronger, like an undertow. So heavy, and cold.
What do you expect now? Standing there naked as you are, ready to bend over. A cane in your hand. Do you want me to strike the blow. I won't. But when the blow falls, I'll be ready. To lick you there. You know where. To feed, and take the tears from your lips. Don't feel trapped, in my chains of loneliness and sadism. I'm all you have.
You've almost finished that special place. Deep within, where only I can get. That part of you knows. No place to hide now. Soon I won't lurk in the closet. I'll be with you, the one you love. The only one to touch your lips, or kiss your breath. I will feed forever with you, as we are bound by a dark so heavy.