Monsters. Big and hairy. But not scary. Too much familiarity. I see him. Know him. I hem his jeans. The seams. The seams are torn. The family. Seems we were. No more. No more, Thank you very much. Theres monsters in my head. Under the bed. In the closet. The same man. Man, I wish it was over. Over and done. Over and out. Get me out. I could say No. No more. Be done. Done like the chicken I cook for him. Look, he doesn’t work. This isn’t working.  I could be loved. He loves himeself. No one else. But he pretends. He’s good at that. That’s it. I’ll sit. He’ll yell. I’ll take it. He’ll tell me to go to hell. I wont move at all. He seems so tall. But he’s imaginary. A monster big and hairy. And, Okay, maybe a little scary.