Shouldn’t I fear my demons’ presence whenever I sense them in my room?
“Hello, old friend,”
I say
as I waltz towards the doom.
Those words…
how they flow so effortlessly out of my mouth,
so smooth,
like I just knew,
like I have no doubt
that their bodies will move
every which way
that I move
in perfect unison
and we will dance
and we will laugh
as if death may come peacefully after that.
There is the comfort and there is the ease
that I notice the most
in my tone
because I know
that I want to please them.
I know
that I want my demons to stay.
No consideration for how rough they play,
no looking out for my safety
even though I know
exactly
what they’re going to do to me.
They will probably destroy me
once we are alone.
But I get off
on the torture.
I find myself in the pain.
I lose myself
in all their little games.
And I give it my all
for their own
personal enjoyment
and selfish gain.
But maybe, I enjoy it too.
They need me
and I think that
I need them too.
I seem to like my demons
a little too much,
it’s true.
I can’t seem to get enough.
I crave their evil touch
and
I want their needy love.
My demons
they fill me up
because they know
I am empty without them.
Unraveling my soul 