pome

there is a state of mind to which i have become accustomed and of which i am quite possesive. it is like
a dimly lit and warm log cabin. snow-covered. silent, save one sound: the crackling of the burning thing in the fire pit.

in there:
weeks without a soul
and the peace of god's ignorance.
i can even forget i have a voice.

a knock and open door bring in the bastard cold.
i remember you.
your laughter puts out fire.
less warmth. bright white light. chatter and pitter and patter.

the waked soul remembers too.
rattled and faded. punished and jaded.
now hovers over me, afraid.

-R.Fino

the will

what the devil

There we were, together again, all my demons and me.
Dancing about in my heart and head like it was 1999.
I tried to drown them with beer.
I tried to reason with them; cut a deal, right?
I tried to change my mind into an intricate maze where one or all might get lost.
I thought I could handle them alone but I was wrong.

This morning, the devil is sleeping in my bed.
I tip-toe around and try not to disturb him but he knows I'm awake.
He does not rise.
He does not move.
He is not worried that I might escape.