She drinks. Her breath stinks of it. Her cheeks are always red. They don’t get close enough to see her rotten teeth. They see her smile and teach, laugh and joke. They see her set up races and muck in. They don’t see what I see.

She drinks. Her breath stinks of it. Her cheeks are always red. Her teeth are rotten and her spittle flies along with the belt. I see her jump up, see that look in her eyes, I know. I know it’s time to run. I see her cry and I see her date and I see her drunk. I don’t see what they see.

He hides in the shadows, but no one is scared of him. It’s more of the opposite, the way he cowers away, pulling his claws in at the light of a flashlight. More bark than bite, is one name for it. A mere Halloween decoration some call him, though he is very clearly living and breathing in the same world we are. His chest rises and falls more quickly when he is scared and if you put a hand to his furry chest you could feel his fear with the vibrations of his heart. Newcomers keep his ego high and natives keep him in check. His appearance scares the regular folk back home, no doubt. Flawless when it comes to the shell, but we’ve all heard in books it’s not what’s on the outside that counts. A kind soul lies beneath all of that thick fur and daring expressions. He really only is a monster because he’s been given that title.

Once upon a time, there's a man who's just lying on his bed all day and do nothing but to overthink. He takes a deep breath and cries "How can I pay our land title, it's already November and by the end of the year, I should have to pay it or else we're gone".

He's the bread winner of his family and they thought that he has enough money to pay. He is very hopeless and don't know what do, anxiously said "My job is not enough to pay for our land title, I lied to them, all they know is I do have a sufficient job, I'm just doing it to feel them that everything is okay. But now, where do we live?"

And suddenly, he heard of a voice outside his room that telling him "There's a monster inside you that you need to get rid of"

He's scared and looking where the voice came from, then said, "A monster? Inside of me?".

The voice continues "Yes, but fear not, it's a monster that everyone of us do have".

He's still looking for that voice and found out that his mother is talking to him, "Mom? Are you here and listening the whole time?", "I'm sorry I lied" he added.

The mother said, "You are good man, and I know your intention why you lied and that's okay I understand, we'll find another way."

The man is happy but still thinking about the monster his mother is talking. He curiously asked, "By the way mom, what is that monster you are talking about?"

The mother hugs his mom and tells him "I will tell it to you next time but for now, you need to remember that no matter what happens, we're family. We'll stay together and build a new house. It is not the same house but still the same person you called home."

Why is it that I’m always seen as a monster. When am I ever taken under consideration? when have I been loved? is this thing I’m seeking for just not there? Or am I not ready to look for it…?

Before I used to be scared No I really don’t care Before I used to repeat the same nightmare Now it’s like you were never even there I wish I could talk to old me I wish I could help her see See what you really are That your not a terrifying monster the color of tar That your just a stupid shadow under my bed That from the beginning it was all in my head That your were nothing but an ugly fantasy That there’s no way in the would you could ever hurt me That your nothing but a tall tale That your not the reincarnation of hell That your just the definition of something without light That at night I have nothing to fight That I’m not just something for you to eat That you won’t reach from the shadows and grab my feet Your not a demon that needs fear to be fed Your just the ‘Stupid Monster Under My Bed’

In a world where humans conquared their universe. Aliens aren’t as bad as they seem.

If I’m being honest, they’re less like aliens and more like animals or a different species of human in most cases. For easier understanding we call them aliens though.

For the past 70 years humans and aliens have been living in peace amongst eachother, not to say there isn’t any hostile ones. After long war with our now allies, we concluded there’s bigger fish to fry.

Outside of just our universe there’s more than just us and we need help to understand. There’s no doubt that tension still lives, but hopefully this alliance may last just long enough for us to escape what’s coming.

Fear Leer Cheer Dear

Franky Lanky Cranky Pranky

In my bones There is an aching A love that’s never fading Sunset’s on my mind You sit there waiting For me to come home

Oh I already know I’m anxious on the inside Waiting for you to catch me tongue tied Your eyes they watch my breath Rise and fall, you know me best

Fingers running down my chest No one’s ever seen me quite like this But am I missing the next best thing Women wrapped tightly around my brain

There’s a monster here that’s shaking Constantly wondering why I’m naked Am I another one of the guys? This season’s not right for little white lies

Tell me I’m right or wrong tonight cause I want to come home To be by your side Crazy monsters in my head Shush, now sleep to this lullaby instead

“Be nice Dad.”

“I am nice.”

“No, mean it Dad. Be nice. Ryan is a sensitive kid,” Ronnie leaned in and whispered into his father’s ear. “Marilyn is already nervous about letting him stay here.”

“Stop breathing on me boy. I am always nice. Ask your momma. She like me or you wouldn’t be here,” Roscoe said. “It’s not my fault your woman don’t like you.”

Roscoe laughed and then wheezed into a hacking smoker’s cough. Ryan glanced up at his grandfather. Not his grandpa Joe, his mother’s father who collected model planes that were only for looking not touching and took him for waffles, this was his grandfather, Roscoe. Roscoe used to come over their house for big holidays. With a suede hat tilted over one eye, Grandfather Roscoe always had a Black and Mild cigarillo between his teeth and a laugh that shook the table. He hadn’t been around so much lately. Ryan wrinkled his nose and went back to playing Battleship.

“None of that. No foul language. No booze. No smoking of anything. None of your roughneck biker buddies. We have our contact information and Ryan’s schedule. He’s allowed another thirty minutes of screen time. And his book is in his backpack.”

Ronnie gestured towards his son, a slight boy dwarfed by a giant bag. Ryan’s head was buried in his tablet. Leaning forward slightly, Roscoe inspected the boy. He could tell Ryan was all ears.

“Son, I’m an old man. Sure I used to tear it up back in the day. Grown men would tremble and grown women would swoon at the mere mention of name. Junior is on prowl. But now that your mother’s gone and I’m older and wiser,” Roscoe said, gathering the blanket on his lap higher up his middle.

“Dad, mom is not dead. She moved to Atlanta with her new husband. I just need you to …”

Roscoe threw his son a look. Ronnie looked around for a better word than “behave.” With its tired metal furniture and mom’s dead petunias, the porch of his childhood home held no answers. Ronnie’s watch chimed. He looked at his father and looked at son. Swiftly, he leaned over and hugged his dad and hugged and kissed his boy. Both looked uncomfortable with Ronnie’s gesture.

“Look I got to run. Ryan listen to your grandfather and don’t do … anything.”

Ronnie hurried down the cement stoop to his car. Roscoe gave a frail wave as his son drove off. Boldly, the grandfather and son appraised one another. Roscoe pulled out his son.

“So, little man, do you like animals?” Roscoe said as he called a number on his phone.

Thinking of a petting zoo, Ryan shrugged.

“Cool, little man, cool. Jean Paul, I got a hot tip for the third. We’ll meet you at the dog races and later we’ll connect with Sweet Pete and the ladies at the Lodge,” Roscoe said.

Twirling away the blanket, Roscoe donned his blazer. He popped his collar and reached for his hat. Without looking back, he swaggered to his Chrysler with Ryan running behind. “

It's a common, horrid thing, That contains the letters P-R-I-D-E

It squelches gracious mercy, And laughs at moral Humility

It rears its head and screams And says, "I'm more than Enough, you see."

It leaves no room for forgiveness Or love, focused Only on being greatness

It's monstrous face is not A scare, but welcomed by Most on the block.

Woe to us, our blinded eyes, How can we not see the Dark web of lies?

The monster is a common sight So much that it Doesn't give a fright.

Beware this common, horrid thing, Also known as PRIDE, Be ever-watchful, cautious, searching, Lest you lose your sight.