For the curious - this poem is exactly 666 words long
In the caverns of my nocturnal domain, Very little of humanity remains. Pulsating pus, slime covered walls, No where going twisting , turning halls. Faces I once held dear, Twisted, contorted in abject fear. Or seen as if in some fun-house mirror. But, it doesn’t matter, For I am dancing with the devil. It’s August and I shiver With each new dance-step he delivers. There is no hope For escape Even these dreams are arsenic-laced. His acrid tongue leaves its trace Searing away skin Burning my mind. He screams at me to pick up my pace, For I am Dancing with THE devil He cries. How proud he is of his newest prize. Have I seen it? He shows me my own heart, Just torn from my chest. It now hangs suspended on a chain, About his neck. I stare in disbelief , Place my hand Where it use to be It comes away crimson. My clothes slowly turn crimson too As my blood seeps through. He smiles, Extends his hand, Our dance is not yet done. Catastrophic wailing, weeping This is the tune to which we’re keeping. I can hear creatures Slithering, creeping closer. Smell the stench… Brimstone, fire, Foul odors… Acridly sweet. I am thirsty, Incredibly so. May I not quench My thirst? He laughs, “Certainly my dear.” Ruby red wine In a crystal goblet, He hands me. I sip and spit, Blood. I scream and dash it to the floor. Choking, rubbing my mouth with the back of my hand. Merrily he laughs and cries “Strike up the band!” It doesn’t matter For I’m dancing with the devil. Together we whirl, And twirl about, Stepping on souls, Scattering sickness, and ruin about. The background shifts and changes Evil through the ages. Sometimes I do not see him, As I run through tenebrous caverns, Where faceless creatures breath my name, And hands grasp at me though the walls of rock. Or as I sprint slow-motioned Through mists as scenes Of man’s hatred of man Play out Endlessly repeating. Only to be echoed by future generations. As I gasp at these horrors, I hear his laughter, Vibrating through the centuries. But what does it matter? For I am dancing with the devil. It is August and I shiver, With each dance- step he delivers. His minions poke and prod Shriveled souls I thought I once knew. There are the ones who hid Behind holy masks Going about unholy tasks. The ones guilty of fornication, Degradation, Plotting against their own nation. Those who stole not from need but just to have more, Those who burnt crosses at another’s door. And those who simply quiet kept, Turned a blind eye While other’s wept. Crime not witnessed not committed? Sarcastically they laugh, And say, Do you think you’re better than we? Think you can dance with the devil and not pay him his due? I run from them Slipping, sliding, In muck and mire Innocent’s blood spilt, Their bodies fuel eternal fires. I climb up Only to find it leads down. Stairways that lead no where, Labyrinth thoughts. Trapped with in my own mind. But what does it matter. I’m dancing with the devil. Pop another pill, Have another drink, Chill, For the devil always leads. Searing heat, Sweat trickling down Burning like acid, I feel my flesh melting Deftly he flays my skin With one sharp talon… I feel the pain, See my blood trickle, Slowly pooling on the floor, Mixing with other’s blood. I cry out, But it is drowned in his laughter. Laughter that is like nails on a blackboard, That metallic taste before you wretch, Laughter that cuts into you like a thousand paper-cuts, Like salt in a wound. “Shall we tango?” Then once again, I am dancing with the devil. Caught in a hell of my own making. There can be no heaven without hell. No light without darkness. No God without Satan. But what does it matter? I’m dancing with the devil .
