a demon dreaming

it's a dry, wintertide night,
twined tight in Abbadon
enfolded in embers and bedsheets.
ash falling gently
coiled cascading spirals meet the ground down around me sleeping,
cradled delicate in death's clement bed, glowing,
my scaly armored arm and claw holding close to my pillow.

i dreamt, that eve, of the hell above me.

a pale greyscape with grey shapes, bleak and bleary eyed world
where fate's fallen daughters martyr their problems.

nowhere was on fire. everywhere was burning.

the turning of their seasons rained down the nuts and bolts holding heaven together.
tepid, i trudged weary, war-torn feet past
the desolate,
the desperate,
the hesitant,
but all of them the same.

the space between Savior and sinner never felt so asunder
with none in the gap so i stood there in an abandoned ossuary,
as God's groping, hoping eyes scanned the last of the sorrowed soil.
now bleeding beneath me the dry dirt lost its thirst in the flood that formed.

i looked up to see heaven's lament.
tears in the eyes of the bravest of angels.
these holy cold halcyons hailed down from the hallowed ones
so i set down on a tombstone and watched the world end with the sunset.

the horizon so heavy,
i wanted to ask God what had happened,
but we're not supposed to do that.

i'd never seen such dismal dead moments.
the river styx sung sweeter hymns than the stinging silence that me there.
me, a demon.
me, a pathetic hellion stranded in purgatory couldn't fathom what these beasts were doing.

the cemetery: empty
except for me there..

no mourners.
no weeping.
no person keeping vigil over
the tiny saints
in shallow graves
swallowed up in death's early mouth.

(and to think we're the ones out to steal souls)

sitting amongst the still-born cherubim,
the unbirthed someones of the world all at rest
innocent of the blood stains on humanity's hands
as they slept there in unheavenly pieces.

peaceless; i'd never been so confused.

my cracked, wretched skeleton never felt,
never sung the psalm pumped through a beating heart.

and beneath these brittle ribs
no lungs exist but even i know life is precious.
yet i'm stuck in revery,
lost in the nightmare of a world that would suffocate that which the Divine breathed LIFE into.

i could feel hell's burning hunger,
the fire starving for atrocities like it's never tasted... like this.

i don't know how long i stayed there.
sitting in the grey rain,
on a grey grave in a grey place that used to know black from white.

my feet,
tail,
talons
all covered in mud
& the heavens above
just kept pouring.
& i saw walking toward me
the sillhouette of the Someone holding something.
Someone holding flowers, probably intended for the dead person i'm perched on.
and He stumbled closer, not even noticing me,

the mercy-filled-holes in His hands dripping in the storm of angels' affliction.


i've seen Jesus weep.
i've seen Jesus bleed.
i heard when He said,
"let the children come to me"
i was there.
but i never fathomed the father heart
of this melancholy Messiah
falling on it's knees
crying out for the weak like this.

had i the torrents of emotion, feeling or fervor,
i'd have been moved too.
i would have drawn damnation's sword,
avenged these slaughtered lambs.
had i the heaven's hands i'd hold back Azrael's arms, avid,
but i haven't.

there's. nothing. i could do.
this chimera had cornered me.
it was all apparition anyway. couldn't be real.
but when the prostrate Savior cried out,
every crawlspace in heaven rended,
all hell's holocaust a s c E N d e d
and the static of their screaming set my ears to bleeding
so i woke up.

this seamless dream ripped open hope by the night's placid vigil

i gathered in the tinder, pulled bed blankets close, and lifted
tattered bony fingers, flipped over the pillow so i could lie down and rest my head on the cool side.