Confessions were too strong for priestly ears

so I spoke them to devils

and impressed them with my perilous plight

my furious fight

aroused their sharp teeth

sinking into my neck

driving themselves into my heart.


Did you become your nightmare?

The boogie man in the mirror,

the terror in your shadow.


Once you transform into the pitiful monster

that haunted your innocence

do you keep torturing yourself

or do you play the game

and overthrow the old demons?


One thing about old demons,

they are nothing more than moth balls hanging on deceased grandparents who lack loyal children to clean up their smell. They linger on the bus, subway tunnels, behind children’s ears, and find nothing but nostalgia for the power they once had.

Engulf the scents of demons past by presenting a better scent

We’ve had enough of fear to bind us to seats

seeking appeasement from the dead

of finding saviors in idolized statues

of praying to a fictional character

only to hope it evokes an aspect within us.


The faithful pray for archetypal figures,

hoping to embody their characters,

when they are also inviting parasitic beings into the mix.

When you open your door to host guests,

the criminals don’t come through calmly

they come with gusts

pervading disgust

and break into your palace.


Be the gargoyle of your castle.

We’ve had enough.

Whisper to the next demon, to spread the word.

You’re back in town.


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