Basement

My basement has become
Infested with archetypes.

I can’t go to check the furnace,
Without having to confront Cerebrus
Barring the way, three faced and furious,
As prelude to an Orphean quest.

Or if I want to store away
A box of Christmas lights,
The demons of my id
Try to flay me in the hells
Of Christmas past.

One day the dog went missing.
He had slipped into the Primal Womb
And was reborn as some sort of
Gaean monstrosity.

Animal control loved that one.

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Photo courtesy of "vasishtr"