someone once told me
that writing
is an exorcism.

if that is true,
i can conclude one of two things:

i. i have never truly written before.
ii. my demons know their way back home far too well.

and while i am reluctant to choose either of the two,
i know that the more realistic answer is the latter.

i have known, at times,
what it is like to be clean.
to be pure.
to be holy.

i have known, at times,
what it is like to make my body a one-bedroom apartment
with space solely and deliberately for me.

i have known, at times,
what it is like
to fear no evil.

i have known these things, and i have known them well.
at times.

but i know, too, that these times never last.
there is always a second coming i cannot foresee,
a judgment day that gives no warning,
a demon that yields to no cross.

someone once told me
that writing
is an exorcism.

but i am a church of worn walls,
my pen a faulty crucifix.

i need not look down at my hymnal to sing of false purity.
i have read that one far too many times.

(a.m.)

I can drain my feelings onto paper via ink as much as I want
My heart remains just as full
just as empty,
just as burdened,
just as abandoned.

I need a miracle
Or an exorcism.

In vain, the priest attempts to exorcise
He struggles hard to cease the demon’s rise
His prayers prove to be of no avail
She's almost sure they will completely fail

Contorting limbs, in pain and immense fear
From one of those alluring eyes, a tear
Cannot control the one inside no more
Without a pause she screams, so sick and sore

The wretched spawn is crawling right within
Her aching throbbing belly weak and thin
Some spikes are seen already tearing flesh
She feels each one just like a dagger's slash

With blisters-covered skin, expelling pus
There is no true escape from all this fuss
Entirely drenched in sweat, in **** and tears
Atrophied head rotates, her judgement nears

Amidst the blackened blood, now flowing out
Applying strength, ignoring cry or shout
Exuding putrid smells, an horror-born
Keeps screeching out as if destroyer’s horn


*Possession, Defilement and Birth by João Massada is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.