Tiny Demon [god]
Words are so hopeless. You look at a thing, you think, it’s beautiful. it’s bright. it’s something on the tip of my tongue. it’s not.
It is none of those things and more. Look. Around you, where you are seated how you’re sitting and tell me what you see.
You cannot. You could not possibly tell me because you do not see with these eyes you look only!
There is a bone to pick with language. We never really needed it and we clearly developed the thing separating our souls from speaking. Speaking to you, to god, the tiny god in your belly that takes all your shit.
Stop speaking it. Stop thinking it. For the truth in which the world is at present, is a bit terrifying when you stop looking and you start seeing. God help me!
Where were you when you decided?
I am sitting at the bar with a beer in my right hand. I realize it is not actually I, but just a human who cannot hold on. They let their thoughts take a seat and now they bleed narrowly from the scratch of a demon, the one they summoned with the tiny god in their belly. The demon is sure and keen, handsome and dripping words in cum. Oneself cannot deny the tepid speech beast that defines hate and love.
Tonight, they are hunting to define love and look with their eyes, hoping to catch onto another. This human oneself observes, is odd and different in the face in a way that appeals to more than none. Catching the drift into someone’s look, they smile, blush and close me out.
It is dark for oneself. Oneself must find a way to escape from I, this I who cannot hold on.
Tiny god in my tummy turns and stirs their shit, oneself is breathing.
The music in the air is full of voices, not a single word is sung.
The oneself escaped, and they, the big dreamer felt the release of a lifetime. Do not be fooled, they were virtuous and wise! It was only the words who delt them into a prison within, to be left hungry and unresourceful.