This is dedicated to all the soul-eaters, who over the years, have stormed my battlements with their toxic, cancerous ways. BACK TO HELL, DEMONS! For I am the righteous and you are the fallen.

Could it be lies

That fry and die

When you open your mouth

And let loose with

That decrepit wind

Which fills my sagging sails

With cheerless abandon

Should I question

Your pounding hammer

That drives iron nails

Into my damp and rotting floorboards

Splitting the wood into

Fat ragged kindling feeding

The desperate fire I tend listlessly

The repetition, the machination

Of this cycle

Drives my spine

Into the rough concrete

As your fingers search for

The button to adjust my speed

But should you wait long enough

I will burn my fuel down to nothing

And leave you with nothing but ashes.