I miss them


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...

Give me Back


I believed him When he said Perfection was possible And sanctity The path. The magnificence Of perfection Celestial music To a runt, precarious In his place But he, omitted And not from ignorance To tell, The toll, mandated By perfection I set off Resolute But, naïve Of the price She would extract She stripped me Of my demons, Castrating them or Perhaps, it was me, A gelding for perfection Now I...