islam provided a change of etymology,
ha satan is no longer
a matter of definite or indefinite accusation;
more a case of the accusing
deceived, for it it now know
that the downfall of israel due to king solomon
was due to an accuser indeed,
but its resurrection could only be
incremented by a deceiver.

p.s. a philosopher that does not meddle
in theological nouns will continue, time and time
again, entrenched in whether
hydrochloric is true to qualify
rather than already lose to the aristotelian
quantification parameter of naming, cf., properly;
apparently there's an atom spare
and it justifies socrates uttering he
knew nothing while being paradoxically engaged
in the previously un-discovered dialectics
to undermine rhetoric with a methodology (i.e.
knowing something).
before they pulled my upper madible wisdom teeth out
i was asked a question by the anaesthetist
to which i replied *quo vadis, odd, because i
should have said qua vadis, meaning in translation
not where are you going, but in second in command:
what is your manner of travelling the path being fulfilled?
by foot or by hoofed trot?,
which would make up a chiral momentary inertia
where i, a poet, about to have his wisdom teeth pulled
out, and he, an anaesthetist induced a coma on me;
so it made sense, basically.

Contouring each cheek bone,
Defining each bump,
With exquisiteness you were made,

A color palette used to make those beautiful eyes,
With your creamy white skin,
Emerald lenses were made that incremented your beauty,

Your hair so brown,
Fall on your face,
With your tone they reflect your appearance,

Each and every part of you-
Was made with such tenderness,
You were made with such love,

The power of surgeries,
The usage of makeup,
Or any other thing cannot make you perfect,

If God has made you this way,
Maybe you're tempting and attractive this way,
So why change yourself and fiddle with His gift?

there’s a Dragon on my shoulder
a roiling mass of fire and smoke
burning me to my very core
strangling me until i weep and choke

there’s a Dragon on my shoulder
her embrace is a gentle deception
as she fills my mind with pernicious night
and darkness bridles my perception

there’s a Dragon on my shoulder
serpentine whispers ensnare me as she sings
words of loathing to all that i am
and becomes the blade with which i cut my skin

there’s a Dragon on my shoulder
her incremented tail wraps around my thighs
“food is a bane,” she chastises
as she waves my weight before my eyes

there’s a Dragon on my shoulder
and i believe her pseudo truths
i am a burden to those who care
and should accept her fatal noose
 
there’s a Dragon on my shoulder
and there are thoughts in my head
thoughts of starving, of cutting, of hatred
and of how i deserve to be dead

there’s a Dragon on my shoulder
but there’s a teacher of hope in my life
who says violent Dragons are grueling to tame
but will carry you the furthest when they fly

We all have dragons on our shoulders
We all have burdens We shall bear
until We become dauntless dragon riders
and when the strongest rise
We’ll be there

Commands and demands shouted
down bloodlines in dead languages
carrying an urgency matched
in intensity only by the obscurity
of the meaning lost on me.
I've been a distant third since
before anyone else was in the race,
measured, forgotten, denied
easy to ignore or to replace.
Love and acceptance always seemed
the unattainable golden ring
born in the hands of others
but just beyond my own reach
I'd make my way without help
or affection. Fixated on fighting
the monsters of the dark
that everyone else had light enough
to keep away, until the same
light inside you also seemed
to keep me at bay.
Without the shared warmth
of the crowd I grew used to
breathing smoke as the venom
of jealousy in my stomach
bubbled and burned away.
Snapping loose the hanging
icicle barbs around my heart
became a task too great
and now the path in is covered
by a near impenetrable gate.
I don't know what others feel
they are owed, by virtue of
being born into this place,
but I've learned to expect nothing
because when I tried to
give you my love
Nothing is what you gave.
There are echoes of you
in my pumping blood
but you've hidden your heat
from me.
You've filled all around you
with what you have and
what they'll stand to have you be
but you've taken in incremented
turns from me.
Leaving me hard, perhaps,
but also empty by degree.