Late night early morning blues.
Those demons arise from the darkest part of my mind.
Those demons I imagine into a box pushed further back into a metophoric closet.
I put them under lock and key as they light a raging inferno inside of me.
The smoke crawls to my nostrils from the pit of this beast.
Fan the flames!
I reach my stash, a quarter and a half.
roll one and pack that bowl!
I find the world out here colder than cold.
The spark of light.
The burning leaves.
Its Aromatic therapy.
Fan the flames.
Become separate yet equal
Here come those demons.
I wild ride of corkscrews and loops.
I always peak in a valley.
Never satisfied after sex.
The blade bites my skin.
There goes those goddamned demons.
Wished you had some perfect?
There damned demons.
Those demons busting through the metaphoric closet door.
Waiting anticipating what’s around the river bend.
And in the box I imagine them again.