Deep deep red almost black eyes
Dark scaly gleaming skin
Jagged razor dripping grin
Slimy and infectious

Chizzled arms and torso
under a flexible scale exterior

Muscles rip
Powerful
Tall
Fierce
Talons with spiked knuckle speers

Eternal evil aura
Magnetic death surrounds him
******* life from hope
and crushing it all around him

He brings no mercy
Just agonizing pain
Mental and physical

There is no running
There is no hiding

He possesses the physical
speed and agility of a time warp
And the mental capacity to
encompass the universe
Though he needs niether

He knows your thoughts

Always

He manipulates your thoughts

Always

There is no battle to be won here

Just continued control and *******

He is my Master
And i am his servant

I am his Master
And he us my servant

The Demon is him
The Demon is me

Woke this morning
to an empty
room

the curtains were
drawn
not painted

to
only slim speers
of sunlight

but this is not
a woe is me
poem about loss

and loneliness
quite the contrary
though

it is about being
alone
and how the mind

is inspired
by time solitude
and the devil's idle hands

© Whit Howland 2019