I,
am a demon.
I whisper,
my words,
they wrap,
themselves,
around,
your head,
and penetrate,
your ears.
They swim,
down your neck,
unable,
to escape,
out your mouth.
As they reach,
your heart,
they tighten,
they squeeze,
until color drained,
and left white,
empty.
I,
am a demon,
and you,
give me power.

As you start to get,
older,
and things seem to get,
simpler.
You begin to respect,
even admire,
the little things.
Like the sound of,
songbirds,
through an open,
window.
Rainstorms going pitter,
patter,
on metal pots,
and pans.
An old truck,
being brought to life,
on a cold,
Sunday morning.
They become,
magical,
in a sense,
that they bring you,
a feeling of,
fullness,
in the pit,
of your chest.

The feeling,
of uneasiness,
down deep,
in the pit,
of my stomach.
Like I ate,
one too many,
raw fish.
I can feel,
them swimming,
their way out,
of unsatisfied,
hunger.

She wore sunglasses,
while driving in the rain,
she swore,
she said,
the world is just a little,
too bright today.
It may be,
cloudy outside,
but she can't handle,
the sunshine,
with those hazy eyes,
she promises,
she says,
everything is alright.
Maybe she's crazy,
a little bit not so sane,
she wore sunglasses,
while driving in the rain,
the sun won't,
bother her,
today.

I love the way,
she whispers,
how the,
moonbeams,
gleam softly,
on sultry skin.
Could you,
call it sin,
if I watch,
her slumber,
in the mornin’,
as the sun,
rolls in?

I got,
abducted,
by aliens,
last night.
I wasn't,
exactly,
their type.
They tossed,
me back,
like a fish,
in the ocean,
tried to catch,
another.

My depression is an ocean,
coming in waves,
sometimes typhoons.
Full of other things,
like ships,
and buoys,
I may crash into.
Which causes my heart,
to race,
to pulsate,
this is my anxiety.
I can’t take it,
I can hardly breathe,
I’m choking,
on seaweed.