The lawyers walk along the street
thousand dollar shoes upon their feet
Housed in buildings, tenth floor with views
office not a cube, paying out club dues
Banging the legal secretary, on the ottoman
her bonus not a surprise, to each and everyone
The kids put up, at greater boarding schools
home they'll be for the holidays, thinkin dad's a tool
The Benz is in the shop, the BMW second choice
wife's harping, just won't stop, grating is the voice
The boss wants the briefs by noon, you better get them in
he'll have your nuts over a fire, and that's, just to begin
If my boss were the Devil, a few things I would do
like bring him morning coffee, and a pastry, one or two
There's no winning in the end, to hell you will be bound
after all of your summations, Devil still, will drag you down
a godforsaken devil
you take her hopes
you hold her dreams
you shatter them into pieces
she has given you her heart
something that I know is not easily given.
She has shown you her weaknesses, her loves,
Something she protects with her life
And you've thrown it all away?
Without a second glance at the stress fractures you've created on her body?
You've taken a priceless blessing,
a rare thing of beauty
and brushed it to the side
like a cat bats its toy.
Let me tell-no.
Let me promise you
That if you even think about playing with her a moment longer
If you have a single though of getting away with this
I will give my life to protect her.
You opened me a door
I once thought I never knew
You showed me heaven
And so high I flew with you
But heaven became painful
And slowly I came to knew
That this is not what it seems
But I fear not for I'm with you
Hell masked as heaven
I wished earlier I already knew
The flame opened my eyes
And realized that the devil was you
A long time ago, before the days of Henry VIII, There was a young farmer.
Dryden had inherited his land from his recently passed father.
It was a luxurious plot, the greatest and largest around.
There was however, Dryden noticed:
A large area of land his father never used.
Time passed and eventually Dryden decided he would begin to farm that land.
When he arrived at the small plot, he realized it was perfect farmland.
The soil was perfect , sunlight was plentiful but the dirt remained moist.
Dryden began to sow the seeds he had brought.
It was strenuous and demanding work.
Dryden worked for seven hours and finished right in time to leave before the sun went down.
When he turned to look at his work however, Dryden saw a campfire, burning brightly.
Dryden approached slowly, when he got to the fire, to his shock, there was a small Devil sitting in it.
It was Blood red with grey cloudy eyes, the feet of a goat and arms the size of a baby's.
At the sight of Dryden it began to do a dance. It was repulsive.
"What is your business here?"
Dryden asked in a brave demanding tone.
The creature began to cackle.
It said this:
"This land is full of potential, this land will bare much treasure. You will give me half of all that you grow on this land this year, I have no use for money, but the fruits I desire"
Intimidated, Dryden could find no way out of the deal, but then a thought came to his head.
"Fine you may have half of what is grown here. To make it even I will take what grows under the ground and you may take what is above ground"
The devil agreed and went away in a wicked manner.
Dryden however knew this season was for beets not the corn.
The devil was not all knowing, so he did not know this.
When the time came to harvest, the devil returned.
While Dryden loaded is basket with beets to sell.
The little devil was empty handed, save for a couple wild berries.
The devil was furious, and called over Dryden.
"You tricky man, how dare you. This time I will take what is below ground."
Of course this time the corn sprouted, and when the devil returned he saw this.
Dryden approached and said:
"There you go Little Devil, You've gotten what you wanted, regardless of what you desired. Go now, do not come back."
The devil was upset at himself for its lack of knowledge about farming and left Dryden and his land alone for the rest of his life.
You scrape along the space between my eyes
A maelstrom in my brain
Fury that beats against my throat
All these words that drip with hate
Trapped under my fingertips
I want to let them out
In one stream of hate
That will blacken the world around me
And turn you shades of purple and blue
I hate you
With your smile that makes angels sing
But your hands make them scream
You scratch at my nerve endings
A supernova of feelings running up my spine
I am lightning
Painted vivid across the sky
You seem to be the thunder that follows me
Heavy and unforgettable
You take my breath away
A permanent necklace of fingerprints around my neck
But I rip your heart out
You just stand there and let me
We have an understanding
We destroy each other
In the most beautiful of ways
Sin shining through paper like skin
How long has it been
Since I have prayed?
It's like you stole the air from my lungs
We walk the way devils do
So full of pride
We tattoo onto our skin
So filled with a bitterness because we can't have love
Greedy lips that sip on the leftover of hope
Just to lose in within ourselves
It's like I will never be able to let you go
A reflection of myself
That I fell in love with
Before I knew you were the starburst of pain beneath my skin
Before this is went wrong
I will never remove you from my brain's synapses altogether,
Particles, dust-speckles, piceous ashes of you, broken half of
Where the crowning splinter lies.
Heffalump-bray, Big-bird whistle, and feverish laughter
Sink from your tiny lips.
It's worse than preschool television programming.
Maybe you consider yourself a god.
Mouth-rush, crooked sickle-spine, of the cranes' dead oath,
Or like some hindered devil at the reeds on your tongue.
Seven years I have worked with the crutch, and worried
Like arc-lightning, thickly-paned, frail as a frostbow,
Palely lit uvula at the glowing alter.
I am none closer now. To amend the acres where my feet wallow blindly.
The shivering, baroque, tumuli where my splinters clear my steel-hide.
An orchestral bow of crimson blight,
I had dredged supinely through the pithy Latin vowels.
Like the month of a flower, hitched to the acanthine wings of a moth.
The moon clung to your shivers and sickness.
No longer can I keep my hair to frosty old anarchies.
Nights, heaped on the bowels of a smoky weir.
The blank stones that struck my hands of warning.
Beside the clogged, rancorous doom I had reflected
Mama said I was a miracle from the Lord above,
Conceived from a soft embrace, gentleness, and love.
Tied between two intact heartstrings,
I was their perfect little epitome of everything.
There I was, held together at the wishing well,
Brought down from heaven, but born in hell
Unto the stranger things in life that we look back on with strife
Painting a pretty portrait of treachery, capturing the misery
And surrounded by the impurest mysteries,
This is I, Mommy’s miracle and Daddy’s distaste,
A spiral down the wrong path and pathetic human waste,
My life left in a shattered mess
Since this “miracle” was labeled a child of darkness.