The Diablo sat there one day amongst his inner innocence and decided that he no longer wanted his heart broken.
The Diablo cried and cried until he couldn't no more as it started to **** him on the inside.
The Diablo said to himself that he's going to block out all emotions and love for others and cause a reckless destruction while his heart of fire turned to cold dead stone.
His fingernails grew long and black after rotting under his temptresses phony heart.
The Diablo cried out loud but no one could hear him so he started to stomp his feet on the ground and grow his white angel wings into a sharp velvet black.
The Diablo had enough, he was tired of love, tired of being treated like a *******.
Diabo finally gave up and without a care did as he wanted to keep himself happy.
The Diablo is always filled with fire, but this time he ignited on the outside to show his burning sensation from within and he slowly withered away into a corpse shell to hide into his darkness with the phantoms in the trees.

Here I am,
Dancing with the devils
All of them,
So desperate, so desperate

Here I am,
Dancing with the devils
Letting them deceive me,
Because I want to see their true faces

Here I am,
Dancing with the devils
Looking into their eyes, into their homeless souls

Here I am,
Dancing with the devils
Looking into their eyes, into their homeless souls
They think they can make a home in Hell,
None of them know
Hell wasn’t built for them
Hell was built for refugees of Heaven
For freedom, to be away from the devils carrying out Heaven’s deeds.

Here I am,
Dancing with the devils
To take a good look at everything Heaven doesn’t want to show

i never seem
to get enough
rest
these days
always waking
up
tired

to start coffee,
****,
fix my hair,
sit in bed drinking
the coffee
plumbing the depths
for
ways to get through
another day,
****,

try to remember ways
that worked
before

maybe a quote
or a character
a poem
a song
a memory
an illusion
could even be
another person

but time draws
ever nearer
ever closer
until
at last
that silent cheetah
is sprinting

before i know it
i'm sitting
in my car
turning the key
with whatever
semblance and steel
i finally gathered

-a real live
cubist representation
of my
self
driving to work
at 3:49 a.m.

passing  
three black cats
in
the street
that watch me
carefully,
the glowing night
white-hot
in their eyes


satellites of some
indifferent future

hidden with
the devils
on the horizon