emons run

and heroes fight.

 

Doctor Doctor,

Red Bull and happy pills...

yet still no wings to take flight.

I'm in a state of spiritual paralysis

dripping out fears in emotional dialysis.

 

Demons run

and heroes fight.

 

Take it back to the start as you tear me apart

memories piercing the fabric of my existence.

 

Demons run

and heroes fight.

 

Dad left for a fat slag,

Came back still dead

to me,

nothing but a fat slab

containing the solidified tears

of a tortured mother.

 

Demons run

and heroes fight.

 

Judged by Doctors, saying they care...

rule number one: the Doctor lies.

I was an “aggressive child”.

Poke an alligator and it will snap your stick

- if not your perturbing arm – in half.

Poke a child's fragile heart with frail judgements

so loosely safeguarded the whole school,

no the whole WORLD knows them...

and they too shall snap...

something.

 

Demons run

and heroes fight.

 

In the battle between nature versus nurture

I was the uncultivated casualty

of war.

Drugs, drink, dastardly deeds

fucked for drugs till stone hearts bleed

a cash crop concoction of coitus.

Freudian frenzy as two daughters

married their fathers,

keeping dangerous mistakes

very much in the family.

Meanwhile no amount of love and patience

can heal a heart broken by misunderstanding

oneself and the world around you.

A cocoon is as only as strong

as the blows it shelters you from,

butterfly breaths perish.

 

Demons run

and heroes fight.

 

The darkness chips away at my humanity,

Indigo Angel or dark-hearted Maleficarum

tainted by the Old Gods and spitefully smote by the Maker.

I live in a world of superficial spirituality

defining the divine within/without myself

encompassing everything and nothing

in a suicidal tapestry.

 

Demons run

and heroes fight.

 

In a world of one-dimensional sheep

chasing three dimensional objects...

relics of retail rituals

I struggle to travel the astral planes

of four dimensional love.

Transcendent,

undefined

and real.

 

Demons run

and heroes fight.

 

Yet the contained cocoon shattered fragile dreams

as fragmented nightmares splinter and split

into shards shadowing love's lament.

Some things always tear you apart

no matter how well guarded you are.

 

Demons run

and heroes fight.

 

But I will fight for love,

for restoration, reinvention,

and repair renegade wretches

that blighted our lives.

You do not deserve the lot

fate dealt you

but I will carve a new destiny

for us

bathing in the blood of vanquished demons.

A devil in Christian clothing

bleeting like the lamb infamously slaughtered

in an act of omniparanoid egotism.

Indigo Angel

as an act of heresy embodies the fall of false prophets

and the rising a new identity.

But you fell too

and I couldn't catch you

as I had not found my wings.

More recently I've clipped my own wings

and lack the forthright fortitude for flight.

But if anything or anyone

can spur me into motion

it is you, it is...

us.

 

Demons run

and heroes fight.

 

Whatever this means or shall mean,

I say what I mean and I mean what I say

when I tell you best friend, girlfriend

or both I shall always stand by your side.

The more powerful the demons,

the more potent their poison,

the more poignant our victory shall be.

I will be the hero to your heroine

and we shall slay demons as we march into battle.

 

Demons run

and heroes fight.

 

And I will always fight,

for you, for...

us.