Devil

Why does this pattern torment me so?

Every year, although its scarcely a year.

Barely a fortnight, since its last occurrence.

Since the false promise was made.

A pattern, this truly is- what else?

The devil comes, and does as he pleases

Tormenting, annihilating. Laughing.

He says that god is something only little boys and little girls believe in

Like one of their beloved fairy tales.

And that it is only him, and nothing more

That the blessed virgin, and her son

Are simply dreams of the highest order.

Or was it a drunken melody?

That he, this devil-

Red with horns, and wings of black

Is not real.

Yet he is my only friend

In a world of simplicity of disgusting pattern

And that I hold his hand

As he feeds on my misery

And I become him

And he becomes me.

And we dance in the flowerbed

Arm in arm, fingers entwined

Like two lovers, on a lovely spring day

And we make love

And we make hate.

He understand me

As much as anyone ever could

And that he is the binds holding my soul to my body, and anchoring mind to flesh

Lying to me, laughing at me

Curling my hair in his little fingers

Creating me in his image

And I refuse.

Don't I? Didn't I?

Or do I ride him like a noble steed

And groom him as such, too.

Taking comfort in his devilish eyes, and his godlike presence.

Imagining, romanticizing his appearance

Although such romance does not exist

He, or it, is not a lovely flower

Smelling of the finest scents

Not the gentlest of cotton

Comforting my flesh with its silk.

But it is the worms of decay.

He, is the worm of decay.

Feeding on my soul, draining it to nothing.

And we walk on the beach

Feeling the gently summer breeze on my forearm

The waves splashing against the sand

Blocking out all other sounds, the yelling, the screaming

And I look into his smiling, red face

And in it I see all the comfort god never gave me

We run towards each other

Two lovers, drunk on poetry, and romantic ideals.

Loving, hating.

Our steps bring us ever closer to death.

And the devils light grasp over my heart

Is welcomed, to end all this world has to offer

But what does this world have to offer?

Take my heart, and with it, my misery

This, my dark lover.