I’m considered,
a dog,
chasing its,
own tail,
dim-witted,
unappreciated,
of its,
own efforts.
Probably because,
it’s going up,
an escalator,
going down,
you may,
never make it.
But for some reason,
I’m pushing on,
climbing these stairs,
that seem to be,
working full force,
against me,
but ****,
I’m going to,
make it.

I feel,
worthless,
broken,
and shattered.
My reflection,
it's blurry,
and warped,
beyond recognition.
My mouth,
tastes of,
blood,
teeth stained,
with red.
I'm a,
lost cause,
no one,
to grab,
my hand.
A joke,
made to be,
sneered at.
Like a ball-jointed,
doll,
made for,
entertainment,
and occasional,
pleasure.

I always loved,
the way,
raindrops,
seemed to hold,
fervent races,
on windows,
of buildings,
or vehicles,
and I watch them,
even now,
with such,
concentration,
like a child,
to see who wins,
and loses.

I meant to love you,
you insisted,
on running,
to her,
instead.
I meant to love you,
you called me,
boring,
not so,
intriguing,
and drove away,
in a cliché sunset.
I meant to love you,
you put me,
in time out,
like a child,
face the corner,
and said,
“Now,
think about,
all the things,
you never did.”
I meant to love you,
you kissed,
all the bruises away,
until they became,
bitter memories,
instead.

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.