To put on my eyes would require more than heart and soul.
Maybe a lack of really but i am capable of love this i know.
Growing up they blip in every once in a while like broken film missing a frame replaced with truth.
I remember the first one very well. fuzzy, dark in color like a raven with tucked back wings. always had a smile but never spoke, that was up to me.
it didn't have a name or goal but when wrong came about, so did it.
Milk money never lasted as long as we wish especially when others wish it be theirs.
Sense and cents stolen right from my pocket where i thought my heart was safe but i was wrong. i moved that up to my sleeve haste-fully. this particular demon arrived shortly after the thugs took my nutrition and and showed me the way of life, that there will always be someone willing to harm and profit from your pain or vulnerability.
I sought to make a dent in this way of life and the demon guided me in a way. stealing the stolen bread from the evil that existed made me feel better because if i was doing the stealing from them then other good people must have thought the same. i know some that have tried and forfeited their life for just that cause. it was a war that waged on until temptation arose along with a new demon.
Black with a sheen of blood red highlighting its wing tips and muscles. a real sinister smirk constantly but this one also did not speak. it was just there all the time with the aged demon steadily pacing the rear. this one however, had a little more showmanship. this one would tempt me in other ways the other demon could not. plucking the fortunes of descents swiftly and secretly. sharpened instruments curves like the beauty of the female body just asking to be lifted. then the disciples saw this talent and offered riches for them. i never had to worry about my milk being dry again.
Once this demon grew old, another one was born. this one was dark, very dark. so black that when you looked at it you saw nothing but when you took your eyes off, a shadow infested your peripheral.
This one had no voice but that of a conscious. glowing hatred and evil. willing to do what it took to accomplish what it was intended for, pain and erasing pages from books.
It was no longer temptation but a way. it is just the way it is now was the ora of this demon. you became the pack leader amongst a pack of hungry wolves. teeth aching for the next numbness, the next hunt. running until exhausted only to run that much further to scavenge. pack mates would sometimes challenge but the last thing you need is weakness. a wall goes up permanently and blood becomes nothing but a lost soaked sample of what was to become of resistance. like a bear trap snapping off a foot, masculinity was a must.
when one day, as fast as they showed up, another demon comes to light and temporarily frightens off the others. what could be so much worse you ask yourself, this one is pure pain and sorrow, guilt and hatred all wrapped into one ghostly fog of repentance. like what you feel when kinship is threatened or taken from you. one moment you are sitting politic with your demons and then in a split second a wolf is tamed and prepared for nothingness. caressing and licking his wounds until life is drained from eyes filled with pain that you just want to take away from him. absorb it into you. so you howl until you are breathless and the moon sets out of view. shattered life in a second and this page becomes eternity. a pain that will last as long as you. until reason comes around telling you everything will be ok. only thoughts that are true are that of nothingness. empty, dissolve into darkness. sleep indefinitely.
now the reasoning for the other demons was quite evident but they return and linger around constantly tempting and provoking you. resistance is not always there and weakness comes fourth but you deal with it. one page at a time.