a red beginning on the crown of his head;
king of nothing,
prince of everything -
yet

there's room to grow.

under a black horizon,
the shades of red hidden in bleak
discreteness
are delicious and
demonic.

demon king, demon king

he spreads his wing under the eclipsed sun:
a shadow of a former self.

no longer does he wait for the world
for a seat at the table.

he has learned that hell can be raised
when heaven won't come down.