The devil and I have been good.
Together from childhood.
Like childhood friends.
I remember at the beginning
At the dining table of peccancy
With my long fork hardly missing any mark.
They say if you must eat with the devil,
Do so with a long fork or spoon
So my fork was long.
How I safely forked those chunks
Of grisly bacon;
Those soft-scented tissues of flesh
Which tasted like honey and milk
Shaken together with appetition
And delivered from in-between a woman’s thighs.
The music was loud;
The wines were pink;
And the spirits were strong.
The déjà vu was enchanting
And time went like the wind
It was ecstasy at its very peak.
Suddenly I am eating with my fingers
And the shadows are creeping in
All over my walls and ceilings;
Unknown foot marks every morning
At my door step;
And a distinct voice in my head
Like that of my childhood friend
Whispering: ‘Give your soul to me.’