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(#9 in the "Unclean Things" series...)


She still, sometimes, calls my house
And begs me to cross the Styx.
Sometimes, she calls to torture me.
Sometimes, she calls for a fix.
Sometimes, she calls to be set free…
But I don’t really know how.
Once, her lips were sweet as honey…
But now her clothing smells like piss.
One day, she wanted honesty…
I wept inside, and told her this:

“You’ve harbored a visitor.
Some call him an enemy.
Some call him a friend.
Call him an inner demon
Who knows an outer truth.
He’s not visiting anymore.
Now he’s a resident.
Now he’s a part of you.

He has come to take you.
He has come to rape you.
He has come to waste your time.
He’s already wasted mine.
He’s why angels weep.
He sows what we reap.
Don’t let him employ you.
Don’t let him destroy you.
He’s far beyond what you know corrupt.
He cannot use without using up.”



About me

  • From Hell, Arrakis, United States
  • "If words could kill a man, I'd bury you."
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