Returning

Back in Hell
good to see all the familiar faces
comforting somehow,
to know I've got the lock
on so much pain
and I wear it like a pimp suit
as I saunter almost jauntily
among the lesser demons
who stare in frank admiration
and speak, in hushed tones,
as I pass
I stop, and spin on my heel
rousing my cloak,
spun from lost innocence
in a dramatic sort of flounce
a few of the nearby locals
draw back and leer
in anticipation, of my screeching voice
denouncing cleanliness as vile
or something both cunning and devious
but instead, I wink
and it's a sly wink
imparting far mor malevolence
than they had hoped for
and they howl with the mirth of damnation.


Predatory how one will bask in misery
so that it may be given bountifully to others.