POEM  55

Everyone talks about demons,
but how many
have actually seen one?
I have
cause they live inside;
every time I mirror look.
They are small,
smelly ***** of blood matted fur
with sharp razor teeth, and
they never let you go.
Gnawing
biting
ripping
drinking your mind
with hypnotic cruelty
and away from the reality
of this even more horrific world;
leaving you alone
with your pain
as companion.

I don’t go out any more,
broke - no shattered
all the mirrors.
I just sit in this room
filled with four walls of colorlessness.
Sssssssssh...
Don’t talk
maybe if I’m very quiet
they will leave me alone
where I can think
about, sweet
blissful
death.

Aztec Warrior 9.11.15