yes,
the devil finds work for idle hands
but he also finds thoughts for idle minds
and no matter what kind of
destructive habit we take up
it is always
the danger
that we are addicted to

the devil fills me with dangerous thoughts
when i have nothing real
to focus on

it's a scary thing to realize about yourself,
that you can not always trust
the things your mind comes up with
what doesn't seem to matter
or what seems like a good idea
at the time
usually actually does matter
and is a really bad idea
all the time
but we don't realize this until later on,
and sometimes we learn, and sometimes
it's too late.

but that's not what this poem
is about.
"too late" is too much of a tragic thing
to say,
because is it really too late?
for some, yes, i mean, i've seen it firsthand
and it isn't pretty.

but i'm not going to end up like that.
this poem is actually about how whenever my mind
feels ***** like this,
i say a little prayer and surrender to the fact
that i cannot trust myself
and so i run a steaming hot bath,
dip my whole head under the water,
and stare up at the white tiled ceiling
not thinking, not obsessing,
just breathing
this is one successful technique i use
that makes danger seem boring
and clearly unnecessary.

and so
no matter what thoughts the devil injects into my mind,
this is something i must always remember:
having a bath is better,
having a bath is better.