Little Green Monsters
Bang
They say the little green monster sits on your shoulder, watching you. When he finds the right moment, he’ll attack, biting and snarling and poisoning your very soul. The more you try and fight it, the worse it gets, until you can’t breathe from the venom that clouds your mind. As soon as you give in and let the monster in, you can never go back.
That little green monster is a friend of mine; he sits on my shoulder with his own personal chair and a megaphone so croon his foul lullaby into my ear. His pungent breathe would coat my sense, turning everything sweet-scented into a sulfuric mess. Everything about him poisoned me, turning me into someone I didn’t know.
I became the monster, evolving into my little friend, and spreading his own hatred where I went. I sat behind people and battled their conscious and Jiminy Crickets, spreading my own elixir with every word and movement made. Jealousy was my perfume, my drug, and my life line; it was the only thing keeping me going anymore. However, as strong as the monster—me—is, it is a hypocrite. No matter how impossible the power it holds, it makes the monster jealous of itself. One becomes jealous of those around you, those who aren’t drowning in a sea of envy and hatred.
They say that little green monster sits on your shoulder, but they have nothing to say when you become it.
That little green monster is a friend of mine; he sits on my shoulder with his own personal chair and a megaphone so croon his foul lullaby into my ear. His pungent breathe would coat my sense, turning everything sweet-scented into a sulfuric mess. Everything about him poisoned me, turning me into someone I didn’t know.
I became the monster, evolving into my little friend, and spreading his own hatred where I went. I sat behind people and battled their conscious and Jiminy Crickets, spreading my own elixir with every word and movement made. Jealousy was my perfume, my drug, and my life line; it was the only thing keeping me going anymore. However, as strong as the monster—me—is, it is a hypocrite. No matter how impossible the power it holds, it makes the monster jealous of itself. One becomes jealous of those around you, those who aren’t drowning in a sea of envy and hatred.
They say that little green monster sits on your shoulder, but they have nothing to say when you become it.