They call me evil, but I am in you,
cocooned till I am released, the
trigger is in you. It just needs that
incident that something, to give
birth to me within you.

I am like a butterfly of darkness,
my wings are spreading releasing
the evil within. I couldn't do these
things with out you, but you are not
alone, everyday I am released to do
the unspeakable.

Some have regret with what was
done, while others soak it up and
use it as a strength within.

Those others do not understand
that I am evil within, for I may
sleep to the grave. But in most I
am in some ways released, and
the black butterfly will once again
spread its wings within.

In soot black darkness we lie
between thin, worn out sheets.
A cheap hotel, false names,
cash only, no trace.
Our bodies became a canvas
to sin. We pivoted on an axis of
need, our madness and sadness
lost amongst the tobacco stained walls.
From chin to shin we've tasted,
tainted lust, clung mewling to each other
anchored in this, coal black, soot black,
ebony black night.
Skin to sin we wait for daylight, its
redemption, and chagrin and sadness
to leave. Anxious and unbalanced
we wait for planets to align, so that we
may await the day that this darkness
fades to grey

I awoke today to a truth,
one that I had been lying for
with potions and lotions.
I am old. I am fast approaching
the age when young, I thought
was ancient. Truth be told I'm not
that old but, the outside of me is
wearing thin, my mind is still proof of
my juvenile molecules.

Youth gave me bruises, when seen were
black and blue, age has bruised me but
with a different hue.
How true that poets refer to youth as green
and salad like, fresh and new, for if we knew
that age brought, not only wisdom, but a
wrinkling of the body and soul, we may take
a detour to a roof and shove off
falling, whilst calling for our younger days