"hell is empty
and all the devils are here,"
you say,
licking your lips with your
snake's tongue.
oh, you quote so beautifully,
that shakespeare which you know
once warmed my heart,
and now freezes it like ice
for you have become
the reason that hell is so void
of living, breathing things.
here you stand,
before me,
hissing words you think are metaphor,
but i know better.
you describe none but yourself
when you speak of devils
that cripple the earth with their brutal fire,
just as you did
to my beating heart.
your soul is cavernous,
like those pits you left behind,
but your mouth is full of poetry,
lies like honey oozing from your lips
and dribbling down your chin, onto your shoes.
i will not be fooled this time.
once you could sway me this way
but not anymore.
i keep my distance.
i have never known a devil so cold.
once i would've sworn
that you must worship the devil,
for all his silken charm
and in all his bitter glory, but
now i see, clearer,
that world which you strived to burn,
and i see that you have no need
to fall to your knees
and bow toward satan's throne.
you have no need to worship him,
for indeed, he worships you,
and you are the king
of that empty place.
