At midnight, in the depths of restless sleep
My spirit detects his steady heartbeat
There, at the end of my dead-end street
His walk, a work of the painful labor of time
Occasionally, even stopping to slowly rise
To release a long and heated sigh
By day, out of site on oily stained streets
But on warm sweaty nights, like tonight
He lingers there, within the fog of my dreams
Beneath my mind's smoky street lamp
With his rusty shopping cart filled with my sins
Holding the faded bus pass that is my life
He is singular and oblivious
The madness of a soul gone cold
The Devil came to him one lonely night
And placed him on parole from his private Hell
In return, blinding him to reality
What he'd once thought was love
Was replaced with limitless greed
Moving along the edge of life's now dim streets
He's become immune to love and lives for fear
Craving only the earthly flesh of women
And the simple creations of mere men
To him, the world is all ugly
Its' lost beauty ever his burden
His domain, now fully within Hell's illusion
But, the lofty thunder of his mind still rolls
With high clapping and mindless roars
Sometimes beneath the overpass night
Near a flaming trash barrel stove of drink
Or when watching from his earthly window
While scratching for his daily bread
But tonight he's prowling my mind
As he moves down my life's dirty street
Casting his shadow across my dreams
Twisting and turning tortured thoughts
He picks the pockets of my very soul
The Devil's agent upon my street
~G. Jones 2016
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