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242 Novels

The Play

It's a Mystery

Devil’s Whisper

I walk the tracks beaten down
By many far better who have gone before me
Down the paths etched in my colorless dreams
Watched dark cityscape
Uncover me layer by layer with the
Skill of a surgeon’s hand.
Watched bleach-white country
Roll on my irises with such a
Sweet taste, yet
Never leaving me full
Even if I have given up
The evening meal
My youth.
And I wonder will it
Not be the shape of our place
The depth of our body
The hue of the living world
The canvas we start with from
Corner to corner forever
Pouring paint on paint
And unfinished as a
Restless deep sleep.
Sometimes when I am alone
When it would be days before
Someone would discover the body
Hearing the
Devil’s idle whisper
Heavy under the wind’s
Where if you can listen
With that same stillness
I think I hear a
Something for us all
Something for us to
Wake from.