The demon in my chest

Your ghost keeps good company

in the mouth of late December,

with or without it’s clamping,

snapping teeth.

Icicles freeze to his

umbrella eyelashes.

Chew the pieces of me

Break me down and

Set fire to everything I know.

Every thing that

I was and am today.

A simple blackness

A simple life, tortured.

It thrives and smiles upon

the rotting of you and me,

On the calm it creates craze.

Your ghost keeps good company

lets me know that I will never suffer alone.

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