Poetry / Rubbish

This incubus siphons my life blood.
Paralyzation creeps from my heart to my fingers, toes, brain.
My lungs struggle, my heart wavers.
Skin turns cold and clammy and grey as the sky before the storm.
I am not his.
Old fears return.
Deceit runs deep.
What must I do, to keep you?
The devil is not longer reticent.
To her, my life is risible.
Sacrificial.
Extinguishable.
You don’t belong here, she says.
You don’t belong anywhere, they say.
I announce that to lie is a sin!
You are my angel!
Where are you going?
To sin is my nature, he says,
For I have sided with the Devil.
And then it ends.
My heart is a rag that he cleans his conscience with.
I am dissected and my organs turn to toys.
The coat of my skin is placed as a rug,
My crown mantled atop the fireplace,
My skull carved into a bowl from which they eat the soup that is my soul.
I am trinketed and devoured by these demons.