the torture

a smile was gleaming on your face, but it felt like a feather on your lips

you let it slip off for a second, just to feel what was underneath it

just to feel what was hidden by you under the brush of an

angel’s appearance

and it felt awful to let up, it felt awful to breathe real

and you knew that the face you had been holding looked as awful as it felt

that bad spirits truly look like themselves when they pretend to be the better kind

that devils look like devils when wearing angel’s feathers

and you felt like hell

your heart twisted in you, like leaping flames, like writhing snakes

you were tortured inside yourself because, and you realized as you let go for a moment

that you had already gone, that you were already far away, called there by siren voice

and the angel song turned to tuneless despair, falling down on a deaf soul

you felt the wickedness of your staying

you felt wrong and were tortured

because out of yourself came up the knowledge that you had no love for this

no love for those around you anymore, no love for yourself or God

you had only the love of the idea and the love of leaving to it

the love of living for it instead, and it had you there with it

but you were here alone, cold and furious

then you lifted your lifeless arm and replaced the mask

you wandered the room, waiting and aching for the next second closer to departure

and you looked forward to it, and out to yourself, and wanted only to be whole again

not forked like a dragon’s tongue, not two-face, not dead

you wanted to live and not in hell, but in the heaven where you felt called

and the disconnect and the dissonance came from your silent inaction

the darkness of mind and the blackness of humor were the result

for you were in debt to the jealous gods, who want blood

who so gave you ecstasy that you might kill yourself

inspiration is that gentle torture