by Marc Lionhart19 Oct 2014
I sat, he sat opposite
Stared, hard, took a cold chunk of flesh with his eyes, a burning sensation coursed through me, I...unburdened and unflattered by any form of worship began to pray
"Oh good people, mercy me and spare the wanderer's thoughts a cold glass"
"Then at least singe a mark upon me, let me climax as you laugh"
He did not do this, and turned his head to the ceiling where the painful light blasted me, I would not sing
Noises came from him, noises I could not decipher, they made my head surge
"Enoooch eeeenoch" he screeched
The window the window the window the window, still open, please, my love was waiting for her bus I think
I believe a demon claimed me