never doubt it.
They are in the details,
and they lounge on the brass cross-piece at the foot of your bed
all through your decumbiture.
Decarnate devils fuck with your read outs
and your precious little decastich.
This little devil screwed the meter.
This little devil scotched the poem.
This little devil cried we we we
will goose you at your desk
at our will
and all the way home.
Here's your désobligeante
with a devil on the box beneath the moon.
Here's your digitorium
with a devil to call the tune.
Forget what you've been fed
about doromanic deities.
All there is is devils,
Die now. Why not?
The devil gonna getcha anyway.
More likely today.
But what about redemptive grace?
What about angels?
Oh, grow up.
The devil you say.
thanks to march debzati for some devilishly darling D Words.
decarnate denied or deprived of physical bodily form
decastich ten-line poem
decumbiture the time spent by an invalid in bed
désobligeante carriage for one passenger
doromania obsession with giving gifts
digitorium silent piano for practicing