With water i pass the pill into my system
to keep the demon from waking. i pray for
the warmth to come and qwell the storm
before it rises up in my mind and each
voice that lives there flashes like a splash
of neon light inside of me.
i try to focus on anything. My breathing,
the music, the woman across from me adjusting
her breasts in her bra, but even as a second
pill passes across my tongue with a mouth
full of water the demons flar up, my skin
pricks with life, the sweat builds on my
neck and i know that death is upon us.
Because the blood on my hands isn't mine.
It's yours. And i wonder if your demons can
talk to mine or if they'll just wait until
we are both burning in hell.