Sitting With Devils

I sit with the devil's and sing songs

As the roads dusted and winds shivered...

I've never worn armor that shined

I never rescued damsels for theater

I sung the swells and made deals with the serpent's who slithered...

I sit with the devil's and sing songs

I pierced hearts with letters sharper than Macbeth

And made sure my hurt lived on beyond death

I found poetry in the sleepless hymn of a hurt poets regret

I sit with the devil's and sing songs

I sit, western sorrows to my chest, and shot the devil in the breast

A companion is what I needed, so fallen angels hear my breath

I sit with the devil's and sing songs

I've got poison on my lips, and masticate the symphony that kept me awake...