12/11/2014 02:58 pm ET Updated Feb 10, 2015

The Monster Next Door

Evil is unspectacular and always human,
and shares our bed and eats at our own table.

W.H. Auden

There's all kinds of tests,
some easier than others,
some remain impossible to pass.

There's all kinds of horrors,
some worse than others,
some, unimaginable to comprehend.

There's all kinds of monsters, too.
Not those imaginary creatures
that hide under the bed.
Real monsters.
They live amongst us,
lurking in the shadows,
slithering beneath windows,
chewing through your floor.
They shop where you shop,
carpool with your kids,
and sit next to you in church.

Sadistic, narcissistic,
doughy boys,
whose darkest fantasies,
become our gruesome nightmare.
A cruel lab experiment
gone awry,
where recipients
become unknowing participants,
in a twisted game of Russian roulette,
odds dramatically stacked.

Mutilated minds,
soulless thugs,
release their slow,
insidious poison,
in the dark dungeons,
and recesses of grey matter,
a place,
where civilized people cannot touch.

When the ante is upped,
the proverbial,
Pavlovian fear card
is played,
proving to be a winning formula,
for those willing to trade pseudo-security,
in exchange for the illusion of freedom.

If these walls could talk,
their primal screams would
eat through your core,
leaving an indelible imprint
on your tainted soul,
that time could not erase.

There is evil in these walls,
You've got blood on your hands.
Hang your head in shame.