El Diablo

I’ve learned that hell is grey.
That the brimstone is cold and sharp.
That the devil himself weighs ten pounds;
And he sits in your stomach for months on end;
Setting cold fires;
Caressing your gut with his long,
Clawed
Fingers.

He leaves you through the mouth;
Through the eyes.
He shakes you as he passes;
With talons in your nerves,
Leaving a trail of bile in places it doesn’t belong.

And when he is free;
He holds you safe
In a little box;
And he shakes you like an empty can;
And he sets you down disoriented on strange ground.