At the bottom of every cup
Their is either
Acceptance or ignorance
Loss or desire
For more or less knowing
There is thirst in every human throat
For the drink of mind which will return
For some a nothing ounce
For others all which the senses can possibly remeber and inspire
With fire, and water, and heart to beat
No drink lasts by drink
Or by slow plastic perspire

i’m typically

good with words,

i can string them together

to create something similar
to when 
you look up and see sunlight

streaming through overhead trees

while standing in the middle 
of a dense forest

i’m typically good with words,

and i’ve strung plenty together about you,

but i’m getting to the point where 
the letters
are slowly disappearing

from the dictionary 
in my mind

you’ve taken my vocabulary

and jumbled it up

stealing x’s and o’s

and plenty of z’s

replaced with late nights

thinking of what it’d be like

to place my hand on your chest

and feel your heart beat

i should
move on
i kinda
already have

but there
seems to be
a tiny part
hidden
in my heart
that belongs
to him

Demons are just FALLEN ANGELS.
They fell
From HEAVEN to HELL,
And unlike angels,
DEMONS have a STORY to tell.