Demonic Dance
It was raising in the sky,
that face, and
I could not do but wait for.
His dark feature was looming menacing
in the sky, under the bright light of that inexpressive face.
Black, sinuous, he moved towards me.
“There is nothing that you can do.”
I did not breath and stayed under his gaze.
Were they Witches, those who were dancing
At the rising of that inexpressive pallid face?
They were dancing in a growing delirium,
laughing preys of foolishness and their bodies were awfully twisting.
Dark, sinuous and crafty eyes
he moved toward me closer.
“Now, it is late.”
Then I only waited under that inexpressive face
And I stared at that devil, foolish dance.
And once again he came close to me and with his dark look he faced me:
“Are you afraid? Do you fear your loss?”
I thought about that last word.
Loss.
I did not lose anything. Did he believe me?
He grinned and sinuous he moved more closer,
I could hear his silent and sarcastic laugh.
The witches were still dancing under that expressionless face
in a demonic and foolish dance, dark and insane laughing.
Their laugh knocked at the Hell’s door,
So insane, so evil, so wicked.
...
That expressionless face was rising in the sky.
His figure was shaping against that pallid and sick light.
Those two green flame were burning my thoughts.
“Now it is too late. You cannot be afraid anymore. The time has come.”
I knew everything.
I was not afraid. I was…yes. I was laughing with the witches and
Almost dancing under that impassive face.
Yes. I was everything but afraid and lost.
“Time has come for you.”
He said: “Join my world. Join me.”
I was shivering and feeling excitement.
Pure and devastating and dark excitement.
So intense, I could spin mad and fall down. I could lose my mind.
But I did not.
No loss, no fear.
Insane excitement and foolish pleasure.
“Yes.” I answered. And I gave him my hand.
Laughing.
Excitement.
Insane and dark pleasure.
I wanted to dance with those Witches and laugh at the Hell’s door under that pale and plain face.
…But I was not evil. I was not a demon.
No.
I just was not a Saint.
Not anymore.
I simply was not good at all. But I was not evil. Only, not really so good.
Do you ask me if it was my insanity?
No.
I was not insane.
I just rose from that world
and never ever I shall come back there.
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Poetic Demons
PoetryFew simple poems about gothic and dark moments, atmospheres and lonely moments or surreal moments. In this world or in other or in between, it's like few spirits gathered together and borrowed me few words. Seat calm and in the shadowy light of the...
