The Goblin Within Me

 A little goblin lives inside me.  His skin is the colour of snot that’s more than a day old and his face is scrunched up, like a shriveled up peach gone bad and left out in the sun, discarded without a care.  His jaundiced eyes areas big as saucepans, but sunken deep into his face; they remain forever narrowed and the sinister glint in them is like one of those really, really bright lamps who add no sense of atmosphere at all to a room, and are just hurtful on the eye.  His hooked nose could easily be used as a coat hanger and his arms are short and stocky and, by contrast, his fingers are like long spaghetti strands, unnaturally slender and forever wriggling this way and that.  He has webbed feet that make a sickening sound as they smack the ground, and a vermillon watery substances oozes from his soles, leaving his tracks behind as a warning to those who dare to follow.

When I feel melancholy, the goblin radiates with exuberance, shrieking and shouting, as if celebrating a war victory.  In times of distress, he acts calm and composed, as if nothing could faze him and anything I may be going through is as significant to him as a crumpled packet of peanuts left open.  When I seethe with anger, he goads me on, an uncanny cheerleader who supports destruction, and in my rare moments of happiness, he goes into hibernation.  He melts away from sight, but does not completely disappear; he takes up temporary residence in my subconscious, biding him time, and waiting for the eventual time when my transient contentment will fade away, as it always surely does, so that he can come back with a BANG! as if he had never left at all. 

In truth, I guess he never leaves me alone at all.  He is always there, either right at the frontline, leading the troops of my soul to a Phyrric victory, or just beneath the surface, waitin and watching as the pyramid of joy I spend ages constructing slowly begins to waver and tumble down in slow motion.  I am never on my own, never unattended, never unescorted. He is always close by, always connected.  He is the goblin inside me.



  1. Why is the goblin a “he”? 😛

    and Wow! That was really nice/expressive… I can’t believe you actually know what a “Phyrric victory” is! 😮

    ps. how do u know what day old snot looks like 😛


    1. lol i study at a surprisingly renowned liberal arts college, where i learn a ton of stuff, so yes i do know what a Phyrric victory is 😛
      and i think the Goblin is ‘he’ because i wanted to make it my antithesis? not sure really, but i think making him masculine helped me in describing him more expressively


  2. amazing! i thought you realy just wrote as a hobby and used it as a medium of expression but its much much more! youre very talentd! love this piece and the choice of words in it.


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