I wrote this poem when I was 15, about a year after a traumatic experience. While 14, I'd stayed in the Intensive Care Unit ( ICU ) of a pediatric hospital for four consecutive weeks. It was a very bloody
stay, I was hanging between life and death for weeks on end, my mother was stressed to a breaking point, and three weeks in, I lost my ability to feel hope. It was starting to feel like I was trapped in some kind of purgatory. I feel that I temporarily lost my mind due to being overwhelmed at such a constant rate. Anxiety and hysteria both became regular emotions to me. Even after I was released from the hospital, it took me months the calm down, and even now,
four years later, I have anxiety issues... It's gotten a LOT better, and I can function normally in society once more, but sometimes, I feel like my temporary madness is all going to just bunch up, spring back and suffocate me all over again.
"It", in a manner of speaking, is meant to portray that madness.
Oh yeah. "Monkeys in the attic" was my replacement swear while I was in the hospital. It was a pediatric unit, so I didn't want to swear when little kids could hear me. So, my swears became whatever other words could come up out of me. This included "Goldfish crackers," "Jiminy Crickets," and, yeah, "Monkeys in the attic," or just "monkeys." After a fulll month of saying it, it kinda stuck with me. I still say it to this day when I hit my head, or stub my toe. "Monkeys!
Soooo, yeah. Explanation, over.