Making a Demon
HOWL
I'm looking for a sliver of silence
That tore free in the storm.
A quiet loss, just barely violence
Takes neither shape nor form.
SHIVER
Infection needles with a heavy thread
Of fever to my core.
A shudder, burning shadow that I shed
To lie quite still once more.
PARALYZED
At my bedside it unfurls while it waits
For me to turn my head.
It whispers of time I lose to the fates
As I choose to play dead.
HOLLOW
What now, my hungry half-world friend, what now
Will you do with no life
To carve, to scatter and to make it bow
Before your wicked knife?
BREATHLESS
I will give you fog for a travel coat
And tar to keep your heart beating.
Yet your silence will be a single note
And all damage you do fleeting.
