In my old childhood room there would always be bugs and spiders crawling all around waiting to squirm into my nightmares. I had bad arachnophobia and was just freaked out by insects and their distorted, unnerving bodies. Many legs and beady eyes, furry heads and feeler spies.
In my paranoid days I would think of them as messengers or underlings from hell sent to taunt and scare me. Punishment for my transgressions and perversions. Bad enough I thought some god was watching and judging my onanism some of the time, then I felt Satan was sending miniscule demons to haunt my troubled days. Panic stricken and dumbfounded I found the balls to kill those disgusting things, heaven forbid I actually touch them with bare hands, OCD germ thing ya know. But they keep coming, rattling broken psyches in panoply of fear and loathing. Siphoning energy from the walls of my deadly room. How I cringed at little mites and pedes, inner shrieking little boy blue does. Spies and cries, those days are dead and buried.