Monday, January 7, 2008

The Killer in Me

It's the three of us now,
a trident of anger,
a trinity of revenge,
all fork, fuck and fire,
and there's the target...

[blond, middle aged, drunk, ignorant]

We have a chance,
The Devil says,

and then
I hear Death
for the first time.
(I never heard him two weeks ago,
miles away, far too late)
He doesn't speak,
but I can hear his breath,
rasp and brittle,
bone and spittle,
hunger and hunt.

We have a chance,
I repeat, softly,
and I can feel them
inside me now,
forming
madness and terror,
three as one,
time to strike,
time to fucking strike,
take it all back,
the black the black,
the hurt and the Hell,
the fists and the fear,
take it down
[into the black, make it all black]
take it down,
and let it all end

here.

[the blond shifts lazily in his chair,
his eyes are red,
and I remember that color
on her, on the floor,
on his hands,
and then
I see his tears,
for so does he,
he knows,
the slug man knows]

The Devil:
NOW.

[mathew]

The Devil:
NOW.

[mathew]

The Devil:
NOW.

[mathew, it's okay...]

It's her.
[Thank Goodness]
She's here.

And The Devil's rage
at her interruption,
is the ache
in my guts
that will
forever lead me
to drink,
the booze,
the fire I drink,
as close as I get
to tasting

the blond man's tears.

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