Fiend

A Poem by OwenT

When a caterpillar enters a chrysalis, does it always come out better? Does it convert all of its matter into what it becomes? Is some ever left behind? What happens to that?

I put so much work into creating a new thing to be.

Wild and charming and thoughtless.

I believed so strongly it would help, to put myself into a chrysalis and emerge a different organism.

What else could I do?

If your shoes are dirty, you buy new ones. If your house burns down, you do not consign yourself to homelessness. If your car is past its prime, you do not choose to walk from then on out.

When I ripped free from the cocoon I constructed I could not remember who I was before. I figured it was for the best. What was the point of nostalgia?

Bigger and better things.

But there’s something following me and I think I knew it would be there. It was a simple self deception to think it would be as easy as a fresh coat of paint and a new attitude.

It walks a couple paces behind me, shambling along. It mutters to itself and trips on obstacles that it cannot see or doesn’t have the capacity to avoid.

Sockets without eyes, stringy hair, a gummy mouth missing its teeth. It wears the shirt that she liked on him. It’s not intact.

A massive open wound is plain to see on its chest. The edges are puckered, red and angry. Torn muscle and white sinew and discolored entrail peek out of the diagonal slash. It picks at it absentmindedly to keep it fresh for me.

I don’t need to run from it. If I hold still it stands a few paces away, idle. I wish I had to run. I cannot stand this constant, prolonged confrontation.

It’s not so bad in a crowded room, when I can take in fresh faces and put this new person that I chose to become to the test. It feels good.

The worst is when I have to sleep. It doggedly stands its ground and keeps his hands busy with the gash.

In the silence of a darkened room I can hear what it spends all day repeating to itself. Repeating to me.

“I’m still here.”

This phrase is echoed again and again through its fleshy maw.

I wish I could just feel the pain that I am destined for, the pain that I cannot seem to find but I know is hovering right at the edge of my consciousness.

I wish it would just crawl on top of me and press its stained fingers into my throat and be done with it. But I do not think that that is his intention, or his purpose.

I tried and failed many times to break away from his constant presence.

Thrown objects collide with a meaty thump but fall uselessly to the ground.

Running works for a while, but it catches up eventually. One cannot run forever.

Screaming at it and threatening it provokes no response.

Only one time did I break him out of his chanting stupor.

I took a step towards him, just a little one.

Barely a step, in all honesty. I slid my toe towards it like a child would test the temperature of a swimming pool.

It lifted its crooked arms for an embrace, dark voids coming up to meet my gaze.

I retreated, ripping my foot away from the barely collapsed distance.

“Coward”.

A new word, spoken clearly.