Demon--poem

It’s coming from the inside,
needing a release, clawing at my skin
to let it all out-
burning the tissue to weaken
my armour

It tickles as it gropes
for a way out into the light
or the dark—I doubt it really cares
so I laugh in spite of myself
in spite of the logic that should be
alarmed

It’s into me—
and it has me wishing I was into you
like this thing inside of me
taking over my sanity
taking over my vision

So all I see is you and scenes of us
and what we could be
when the lights go out, and day has fled
to let the moon usurp the sky
shed its glow upon my deeds
desperately waiting to unfold

It wants to spread like a disease,
Bursting from my core to enter yours—
but wait, this isn’t a nauseous process—
though it sways me like vertigo with a pleasant,
drunken wave

Is this my demon
waiting to possess my reason,
my flesh and yours?

Will I fall, condemned in the pit
of endless tunnel vision of lust
in love’s clothing?

Or could this Force give me wings,
fly me to sanctioned bliss
so I can meet the sun, and never burn,
never lose my flight despite the pull of
sin’s gravity on my tired frame?

Is the answer worth knowing?
For knowledge can strip what dignity,
shelter, and armour I have left—

keep me in the dark,
keep me in the light,
I don’t really care
as long as it’s inside,
and willing to knock logic down
to let sweet anticipation rise
and commence your release.