Why have you come to sit upon my shoulder?
Demon in my ear you curse my waking days
When was it first that your foul words came to echo along my own thoughts?
From which abyss where you hatched?
Did the fiendish imp upon my mother's back spawn for me my undying companion?
Lord of lies your tongue is not silver.
White hot it sears me, every word a brand on my moral conscience.
Was it from birth then, that you came too me?
What burden to me which you and your kin have become.
I cannot pry your talons from my flesh with any more ease than pulling my very thoughts from my head.
Foul futures you whisper to me.
The world is set aflame by forlorn candles in the mornings and perhaps by the left wing of a monarch I am painted blue in the night.
I am beset with the scars of your care.
Hold me gently while you serenade me with tales about the noises in the night.
Perhaps tell me again about how the crash I have just heard was poison falling from the cabinet to feed the cat who will surely now foam at the mouth and die.
I will get up to find him and tell you that you are wrong.
And then something will rattle and bid me here you speak again.