Frankenstein's monster...

Brutal imaginings
make their way into
my consciousness.
Sensation reverberates;
Blinding, Putrid, Bitter.
A final clang signals the winding hour;
I turn to clay; grey and cold.

The villain that hovered
as an image,
a formation of
words
and paper,
a scrawl of ink and graphite,
and yes,
someone elses dreams,
dashed-

Is a fluid vision;
a Flesh and Bone
Reality.

I feel like Frankenstein.
Please hold the champagne, though.

A lump born in the throat
falls into the
ulcer-ed pit,
heaving with
the knowledge.

Realisation
sinks
in:

So,
They do exist.
Beyond
my Wildest
Imagination.