To be damned is never
to taste the melody so sweet.
In this world of illusion
folded over, like an unfurled flag
in shades of magenta.
Oh, how it tries to be real
but remains, cardboard cut-outs.
This one more death is personal:
I, downed by a man in a
black derby,
dirty blonde hair,
missing two teeth.
Everyone wants to be in the spotlight
that shines from beyond the clouds.
Strange isn’t it how any of us could
be so excited about this realm.
A golden age, fool’s gold.
It’s a slaughtered mess;
a butchers shop, this life.
I am a chameleon that remains safe
always, scarlet red.
All the while the jaws snap quickly at me,
piranha quick.
And through the twisted gums
and broken teeth, the demon says:
“Start from scratch, you could be so much more.
I understand the implication
but his bargain is bare;
his logic is a debate
over a three sided square.
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