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
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.