The Bad Thing
The bad thing is here
Crawling on its tiny night feet
Slipping in through the mouth’s opening
Sliding down the unsuspecting gullet
Into the belly’s soft tissue.
It has no interest in negotiation
Nor even of your surrender
For both will involve talk, words
And could result in identification,
But the bad thing is unnamed
And wishes to remain so.
To give in and grant it the flow of tears
Will do nothing to ameliorate
For what are tears but salt and water
And the bad thing already owns the ocean.
So it’s here and you are its battleground
Never to know why you were chosen.
Resistance is hopeless, the invasion’s complete,
Your mind colonised.
So in one last desperate attempt
You make it your friend
Having misheard advice
That familiarity breeds content.