I fear the things that could kill a man.
The things that want to slit you,
from tongue to toe.
The devils that leave only rubble and gold,
and the ember-eyed devils that you know.
I fear the things that like to see you bleed –
the things that turn men into monsters.
The ones that feed off of the thoughts in your head,
Whispering sin in your ears with black tongues of lead.
I fear men like thunderstorms, waiting to wash you away
Making driftwood out of women with spines.
And I’m scared most of all
Of the ones that go bump in the night
Because they’re the ones I’ll never find.
I fear them because they’re the ones that I trust,
The ones that leave me tied to the train tracks.
They’re the monsters that turn to brimstone and dust,
Before my parents’ loving eyes search the cracks.
For those with their sheets pulled up to their nose