Madustex 

Having horrified youngsters all around the world and for as long as anyone can fathom, it is difficult to  identify the origin of the Madustex. However, it is worthy mentioning that although its presence varies immensely, there are unique characteristics that each sighting of this ever-present lurker have in common. It is attracted to dark and dusty, but cool areas where it can conceal itself until the inhabitants of the bedchamber enter, hoping to fall comfortably into blissful rest. Before sunset, it seems that the Madustex takes on a invisible form that does not allow for the bare human eye to see it, and only after darkness, does it become a tangible being. It expresses little interest in haunting humans approximately above the age of 12, as scientists have discovered that aging provides an immunity to the horror and fear that is has on younger human beings. Because of this immunity however, the adult eye does not have the capacity at all to catch a glimpse of it, while children have again and again suffered from its evil influence. The Madustex often causes minors to experience  long, desperately restless nights, eyes just starting to close as long, deep, droning breaths are heard from underneath the wooden boards of their beds. Parents have been woken up with anxious, sweaty foreheads staring up at them, begging for an escape from the feasting behemoth. Descriptions have varied from gooseflesh claws covered in horrible boils to emaciated wrists obliterated with aging warts to werewolf-like heinous toes. The more fear that a child exhibits towards the beast, the higher the intensity of the horror that the Madustex causes throughout the night. 

Revised to work on twitter poems:

Pray for Paris

Running through the wind.

Two explosions heard by all,

families ravaged.

Video Poem

A simple luxury-REVISED

The forever yearned for time has come.

Crawling comfortably under the sheets.

Allowing her limbs to collapse underneath.

Finally, alone, or so it seems

but then everyone joins her at once.

That deadline is fast approaching...

She forgot to call her mother...

Was he insulted by her last text...

Recounting every second of the day behind her.

Rethinking her every move.

Her mind drifts everywhere, uncontrollably.

The long awaited tranquility now out of reach.

A scattered, confused, inquiring brain.

Tossing and turning, it does not stop to breathe.

Suddenly, it all comes to a halt.

Creating a dome in her checkered quilt,

as her head nestles into her down pillows.

Entering a world so intangible to the living

A place where questions are not asked

and nothing is dwelled upon.

Unreachable serenity for the conscious.

The luxury of a dream.

Complete and utter peace,

out of reach to the open eye.

The forever dreaded time has come, 

Stalling comfortably under the sheets.

A simple luxury

The forever yearned for time has come.

Crawling comfortably under the sheets.

Allowing her limbs to collapse underneath.

Finally, alone, or so it seems

but then everyone joins her at once.

That deadline is fast approaching...

She forgot to call her mother...

Was he insulted by her last text...

Recounting every second of the day behind her.

Rethinking her every move.

Her mind drifts everywhere, uncontrollably.

The long awaited tranquility now out of reach.

A scattered, confused, inquiring brain.

Tossing and turning, it does not stop to breathe.

Suddenly, it all comes to a halt.

Entering a world so intangible to the living

A place where questions are not asked

and nothing is dwelled upon.

A safe zone where war is unheard of

and hate is simply forgotten.

Unreachable serenity for the conscious.

The luxury of a dream.

Complete and utter peace,

out of reach to the open eye.

The forever dreaded time has come, 

Stalling comfortably under the sheets.

The best (edited mainly for the last stanza)

The rude awakening. Her hand slams down on the button.

An hour to the second: styled straightened hair, blush in place, and flawless ensemble.

Strapped heels on, she marches out of her carpeted living room.

“Non-fat iced coffee, please” As usual, the barista winks at her.

Enveloped by the crowds, she briskly paces, anxiously nibbling at her nails.

8:30- not a second later, she waves cheerfully to the guard.

She is never late, she can’t be.

They expect the best.

The time has come. Twenty pairs of beady eyes stare with anticipation.

A week of long sleepless, caffeine filled, computer screen lit nights.

She takes her place at the head, sweat dripping down her back.

“Thank you for all coming”, she finally begins to speak.

Her legs quiver as she impeccably delivers her proposal.

Nods of approval throughout, and a round of applause at the closing.

Drained, she flashes a short-lived smile

She is never unsuccessful, she can’t be.

They expect the best.

6 PM. As expected, her phone rings as she logs off her computer.

“I’d love to see you. Can I pick you up at 7?”

A romantic candle lit dinner for two.

She picks at the greens on her plate, choosing the iced water instead.

Avoiding his gaze, she inquires about his day.

He looks at her with questioning eyes, searching for answers.

She grabs his hand, forcing a laugh as he holds her close.

She is never upset, she can’t be.

They expect the best.

It's way too late. The slam of the door, her hand shuts the wood behind her.

Raw swollen toes, hair at all odds, mascara running, wrinkled button down.

The emptiness of the room startles her.

She turns on the television, a weather report to calm her nerves.

Mind still racing, she crumples into her bed.

A dog barks, the sirens wail, and the drunkards celebrate down on the street.

Inside? Silence. Only her thoughts to keep her company.

They expect the best.

The rude awakening. Her hand slams down on the button.

An hour to the second: styled straightened hair, blush in place, and flawless ensemble.

Strapped heels on, she marches out of her carpeted living room.

“Non-fat iced coffee, please” As usual, the barista winks at her.

Enveloped by the crowds, she briskly paces, anxiously nibbling at her nails.

8:30- not a second later, she waves cheerfully to the guard.

She is never late, she can’t be.

They expect the best.

The time has come. Twenty pairs of beady eyes stare with anticipation.

A week of long sleepless, caffeine filled, computer screen lit nights.

She takes her place at the head, sweat dripping down her back.

“Thank you for all coming”, she finally begins to speak.

Her legs quiver as she impeccably delivers her proposal.

Nods of approval throughout, and a round of applause at the closing.

Drained, she flashes a short-lived smile

She is never unsuccessful, she can’t be.

They expect the best.

6 PM. As expected, her phone rings as she logs off her computer.

“I’d love to see you. Can I pick you up at 7?”

A romantic candle lit dinner for two. Can a girl ask for more?

She picks at the greens on her plate, choosing the iced water instead.

Avoiding his gaze, she inquires about his day.

He looks at her with questioning eyes, searching for answers.

She grabs his hand, forcing a laugh as he holds her close.

She is never upset, she can’t be.

They expect the best.

The slam of the door, her hand shuts the wood behind her.

Raw swollen toes, hair at all odds, mascara running, wrinkled button down.

Can I be late?

Can I be unsuccessful?

Can I be upset?

A dog barks, the sirens wail, and the drunkards celebrate down on the street.

Inside? Silence. Only her thoughts to keep her company.

They expect the best.

But is she?