• Through Glass

    The devil stood in front of me, and smiled.
    Looking in his eyes, my own glass

    reflection;

    and in the eyes of my pale, geminate image
    struck cold by the devil, was his creeping

    silhouette.

    An infinite spiral of dark, silent figures
    staring at themselves in the other's

    mirror,

    but the devil knew, keeping the grin on his face.
    I was looking into my fathomless pool of

    sins.