The Monster Inside Me

Quiet noise.  It haunts me for hours. The silent breathing, the soft movements that threaten to transform to consciousness.  I wait in the darkness, aware of the inevitable ruckus that will wake my adversary.  Its blaring confirms my doom and the noise is no longer silent.  I hear it.  I can see it looming above me, its long form and protruding digits moving to violate my soft components that form my body, causing my laces to stretch and my sole to cry out in agony.  As if the physical intrusion was not enough, the organic stench disregards my musky leader scent and is set to torment me for the following unbearable hours.  The first level of distress comes when my lively underside is met with hard, abrasive concrete instead of the gentle surfaces of the house.  The wicked gray beast tears at my rubber, and I want to scream my anguish!  But I remain silent, knowing there will be no response to my distress.  The brisk wind is severe on my soft black skin, like a cruel master skillful with a sharp whip. I must endure swamps, muck-filled lakes, and parched deserts without complaint. Rubbery parasites attack, compromising my dignity.  Other prisoners are frequently forced on top of me, cutting into my flesh, but I cannot blame them, for they are simply helpless tools trapped in situations kin to my own.  The form continues to press, the pain a wretched reminder of my destitute bearings.  I daily submit, but I never cease to dream of escape.