Coffee with the devil and crow

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Feeling impossible, and impossibly feeling

Screaming, Fuck You, to stop my head from reeling

The devil, invites himself in, grabs a cup a coffee

My morning begins, jaded, sideways, melancholy

Then, I notice the crow, perched outside my window

The devil, grins his way, sharing a secret, only they know

My mood declines rapidly

The devil, the crow, simply glare at me

I continue though my motions, seemingly unaware

Fuck them both, I simply don’t care

This day my act, this world my stage

You’ve rehearsed well, the devil says, noting my age

I ignore him like some bothersome gnat

Our relationship, has come to that

He doesn’t scare me, for I’ve crawled through his hell

And his crow on my window, fuck him as well

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6 thoughts on “Coffee with the devil and crow

  1. This has a great defiant edge to it. Like not only did you let the Devil sit and sip his coffee, you got up and offered the Son of a Bitch a refill just to show you aren’t afraid or intimidated anymore. “Want a refill you fucking sulfur scented prick?”

    Liked by 2 people

  2. what does the devil look like? Is he god’s hitman? We have our demons, and although we cannot defeat them, we can educate and harness them. This has a slightly folk tale quality, the kind of tale told by a campfire therapy session. You could easily expand it into a short story, although it is a tale in itself and told carefully.

    Liked by 2 people

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