Day 146: Staring down the Devil

I wrote this poem listening to Final by Hol Baumann. It took me like 10 replays to write it all, so for maximum effect, I recommend listening as you read.

VIDEO


Staring down the Devil

There's a sacred place
I've hidden deep within my chest
And when the world around me spins
I find in it my rest
Its whereabouts are whispered
In the darkest bar recess
By a man with a texan drawl
Beer in the right and stump in the left
The brim of his hat
Keeping the light at bay
So no one recalls
Ever seeing his face
But his eyes they're aglow
From a sulfuric flame
A demon-oid stare
Half crazed half sane
No one dares walk
The path that is laid
No one dares stare down
The soulless yellow flame
But I've drunk with him his witch's brew
I've supped with him his eye of newt
I've felt the flame fly from his eyes
And resisted being consumed
As hair rose
And gravity stalled
As the light of the flame
Revealed skeletal jaws
A snake emerged
And slithered and slid
Around my neck
And tightened it's grip
And I hung in mid air
Never breaking my stare
In the hollows of his eyes
An unearthly voice blared
And told me I'd been tested
And found of worth to see
Where this sacred place is found
And how it must be reached
The world swirled
Back into focus
The barkeep and patrons
Hadn't of noticed
As I fell into my seat
The eyes began to dim
And leaning back into the shadow
There was nothing left of him
Now there's a sacred place I keep
Where I find my rest
And know I've been measured
And know I've passed the test.