Demonica

Eggshells.
Scatter the iridescent counter tops
of an adjacent room
but no mind connected
to a resistance, aggressive
and a will passive.
A beacon of darkness,
filters through my fingers
as bright light
burning off the iris' of so many brothers and sisters,
bloodlines lost
as they bleed too much down their wrists
gas inhaled from stove tops
of the aliens we were meant to relate to
another passionate person
another creature like me
shuts their dusky eyelids
and dies off, and out
for the first and last time.
(Hail Satan)
whispered in incraments
into the pillows
that smell like the lavendar
merged with the bleach
and the socks left in the hall
Self Worship
titled in an angry red line
underneath the cuts they guided you
influenced you to place
exorcism of the bad spirit
like ethnic cleansing
bubling out the villians,
the vultures I love
and keeping along the cleverly disguised virgins
(Hail Satan)
Big things minimalized,
tucked beneath the quarters
of a stained mattress
and small things, tattooed
tastelessly across the shoulder of
the real virgin,
the raped mind
the broken hymen
but intact iris
Gazing
at the starlight
Whispering
(Hail Satan)