Demonic Irony
I sat on a merry-go-round from, to, and of Hell.
Goblins floating round and round,
Gremlins going up and down.
I sat on the merry-go-round from, to, and of Hell
Playing "Let's make a deal." with the devil himself.
And as his smile turned into knives,
I could see the infinite expanse of lives he had claimed,
like an insurance company running your life,
like an investor running your business,
like a lawyer running your troubles,
but this man led all of the above for millions.
There was suffering in his eyes,
but not his own.
You could tell how many tears have been shed,
but not his.
His hands were hooks,
"all the better to hug you with",
more like all the better to ravage my heart.
His nose was an expanse of two deep holes,
"all the better to smell you with",
more like all the better to sniff up my soul.
His ears were large and bat like,
"all the better to hear your wishes",
more like all the better to hear my supersonic whispers of all my deepest fears.
He spoke:
"Your soul is a small price to pay for true happiness, what do you desire?"
Right there I made my wish,
and before I could barely finish,
a contract pulled up and I scrawled my name.
Keenan MacKay.
After a short while he showed me those knives again,
those reflective blades that refuse to show the whole picture,
a metallic and deceptive smile.
And I smiled back.
For with my wish,
my plea for ultimate power,
I struck him down.
I made him afraid.
And as he cowered in the corner,
I took back my soul and walked away.
But not before I scratched at his feet.
"The Keenan giveth, and the good Keenan taketh away."
Copyright © Keenan Mackay | Year Posted 2006
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