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Published:May 8th, 2008 16:04 EST
The Demon Inside Me Carries the Burden

The Demon Inside Me Carries the Burden

By Rex Owen Waide, Jr.

There is a demon inside me

that people claim is an angel.

It claws at my lungs,

squeezes my heart,

and swells my stomach with swelling emptiness.

In my head I can see my mythological demon.

His flesh is charred from leprosy;

his teeth are eroded from my crimson blood;

his eyes glow yellow with dogmatic Hell.

Gristle and hair, my gristle and hair,

is stuck between his teeth like the reminder of a late meal.

There, where his heart should reside,

a fire of black and pink flares through his thin, leprosy-rotten skin.

Thankfully, this is only in my head.

Unfortunately, much to my expectations, the reality of him, the demon inside me,

is my ghoulish, more Hellbound, more human.


At night he is the one who acts like a scarecrow,

warding off the Sandman and his Sleep-dust.

When the moon is high, light is low, and conversations silent,

He, the demon inside me, converses with me.

He talks of life,

He talks of inevitable death;

He talks of God,

He talks of the complimenting Satan.

His intention is fear.

And I am scared.


He flees from my bedside

as the sun peaks over the mountains.

I sit and shiver, sit and shiver, sit and shiver with his,

the demon's, words reverberating through the corners of my mind.

Before he showed, before he grew inside me,

my tears tasted of salt.

Sitting and shivering from his sour words,

my tears now taste of my crimson blood.

The Life-Fluid that runs through my veins.

Ah! the crimson fluid boils!

My eyes begin to shake from exhaustion.

Where are you--you, the demon inside me?

You drank my dirty blood,

ate the hate that coagulated on my flesh,

heated my cold heart with your leper's hands.

In your absence I am ghoulish.

In your absence I am Hellbound.

In your absense I am human.