I miss them, My demons.
Glint eyes Sulphuric softened Voices, smooth As aged whisky, And as golden To the skin.
The dare issued In the stare, two Seconds too long Cascading adrenalin, Clearing clogged Arteries.
He said, I should resist Invoking future glories Of Christian masculinity. But I could never See the point
Future possibilities A poor reward For the potential Of present pleasures He said I wasn’t man enough My demons said I was.
Perhaps they Like mortals, age Sulphuric softened Voices, fallen silent And glint eyes Glimmer no more.
I miss them My demons.
