Day 18 ~ Lucent, My Own Personal Demon

kind numb now
its been . . . weeks?

isn’t it funny how things just . . . fall away
just . . . fall

dreams and reality converge
when you cook your brain

better than drugs
but i feel so . . . so bad

walk
put one foot in front of the other
lift drop

a shadow detaches itself
come to stare me in the face

rescue?

this demon says
‘you’re a scurvy clot . . .’
nope
that is not the sound of rescue

he says
‘what are you doing out in this heat?’
‘i’m on a journey . . . a quest of sorts’
(all of the sudden i feel so lower case. . . )

he says
‘what the bloddy hell?’
i’ figured
it worked for the French Foreign Legion . . .
i want to forget . . .’

‘how come you aren’t dead?’
‘there is a microfine mesh on my skin
a type of johnsonian junction strand thingy
as long as electrical current runs through it
it cools my skin . . .
the technology was prototyped on beer coolers’

‘but at night it gets bloddy frigid out here’
‘the current reverses
and it heats’

‘but your skin . . .’
‘SPF 437’

‘water?’
‘water condenses from my breath
and my sweat on the mesh
and some from the air
and some in my gear’

i say
‘i carry some food
the rest falls from the sky
at Manna Stations along the way’
he says
‘neat’

i say
‘what is your name demon?’
‘me . . .?
i’m Lucent’

‘not Lucifer?’
‘oh heavens no
i’m only a minor demon’

‘why not Lucifer?’
‘You hardly rate Him old son
seeing how you are nobody important
nope
just me . . .’

walk
put one foot in front of the other
lift drop

he says
‘so if that battery thing . . . breaks?’
‘in that event . . . i’m everso screwed’

Published by

Chyfrin the Celtic poet

Artist, Poet, Electrical/Biomedical Engineer, Actor, Playwright, Set construction, Educator, Lover of womankind and single malt scotch

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