Late at night when I look around the dark corners of my apartment I do envision a boogeyman but he is not a stranger with a knife. He is abstract. We all fear the abstract. The 'what is it and has it come to hurt me?'
My boogeyman has an open maw and long jagged teeth, a jaw that unlocks wide like a hinge and huge dead eyes with unseeing pupils. My boogeyman does not bite.
He stands where I can see him, barely disguised. He does not move when I am watching. Sometimes he still comes close.
The worst thing is not the attack but the anticipation.
I don't fear that I will be ravaged by a known beast but that something grotesque will stand just still enough for me to get used to it.
That someday, foolishly, ill touch it. That I will climb willingly into it's waiting mouth. That I won't care that it is closing.
I always long for violence because what you long for cannot hurt you and perhaps that is my greatest fear of all; that I will destroy myself when there were doors to lock and people to call. A knife to be swung, if I'm desperate.
Late at night when I look around the dark corners of my apartment
I hope to encounter a person.