Demons drink too

She sits there on that high chair
Legs elegantly crossed
Her high heels, arrows of pleasure
Pointing straight to hell
She sips slowly fixing me to the ground with her stare
Dark, hollow, blasting stare
In her glass the liquid changes colours
Another sip and I slip under her spell
I gladly surrender to that horrendous heat
I become an empty shell to be filled
With whatever the demon craves for
The glass is full again
And on repeat I pay my sin

Her drink is green now
But I can tell red becomes her
She starts her journey towards me
The glass gets foggy and then blasts to shards
Her steps are light but that tormenting heat precedes her
Even my shoe laces melt
She walks, she flies, she passes through me
On my lips scattered ashes rest
A remainder of hell’s aroma

10 thoughts on “Demons drink too

  1. Louis Kasatkin

    A sugar rush of visceral horror tropes and allusions to the macabre.One imagines this being recited in sepulchral tones by Vincent Price accompanied by the Rolling Stones’ “Paint it Black”.

    Note to The Author:

    Have you ever read “The Poison Artist” by Jonathan Moore?


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