In me, a Demon

Behind me, a mirror,
and on my back are the demons
fingers like yarn and strings against the back of my neck
(an itch and hardly a thought of it)
A man walks in and the awkwardness between us
Eyes met, our minds staring into each other
We are naked, i see Him, he sees Me
a skull, or hands around a throat

"You're going to die soon."
it tugs at me, though i think nothing of it
and still we become like angels and demons
men with families and corpses


On a road at night, fur in the headlight
two bumps
the accidental desecration of life
(the sky is still blank, and no one cares
stars like vague smudges on the velvet of the sky)


Einstein believed light to be the new God
and with it, we blot out the sky
while Neizche, in his grave, offers nothing
black tonight underneath nothing
off, gone, away, or never was


us with no way of knowing outside of ourselves