A Demon and an Angel Argue Over a Soul

Very quickly I came up,
when you said ‘up’—I am at
your beck and call, I float
when others sink because I live
most comfortably in the mind—
I am an offshoot of the soul,
I go to my gracious host and
do—You whore, you parasite,
you false and idiotic spirit, you
do as you please, and manufacture
will, you fix yourself in the mind
like a splinter in the flesh, you
tumour—I do exactly as is needed,
I impose myself on no one, and lend my
services out at no cost, only to be
admired, and to whom am I
accomodating myself except for
him? Perhaps you should inspect
the beam in your own eye—You
float in leisure down a river of
blood, you scarlet slut, you are
the opposite of good, you are the
dross coughed up by a troubled
ocean, you are sound without meaning,
and I command you in the name
of Christ to depart from him.

Thanks for checking out my poem.

Did I tell you I wrote a novel? You can read it here for free, or get it for your e-reader on iBooks, Amazon or Kobo. Or you can just say you read the book, and donate five bucks down below. Go on.

Gabriel Muoio


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