-newport pleasure-
(setting of “-devil’s handshake-”)
*by someone who craves something different
these days*
(frankie leone, just a man)
*i couldn’t tell you which circle
but i’ve seen hell
and smoked newports with the devil
i found it passing through a small house
in disrepair
staining an anguished suburban landscape
there,
dreams and nightmares didn’t exist
only the ugliest reality
there,
neither hope nor disappointment were present
only long-standing resignation
the air smelled like
sauerkraut
stale smoke
and
soulless-ness
the walls were adorned with inexpensive images of saints
ironic, because god had forgotten this place long ago
at least i hope he did
there,
the devil and i sat many nights
dumping solid and liquid forgetfulness
into a void we could never fill
he angrily cursed his creator
she cried in terminal despair
he ripped the face around his volcanic eyes
glowering into them through an unbearable reflection
all the while, he resentfully shared his cigarettes
i watched these things and much more
feeling little, road-kill inside
during my time there i saw and heard too much
but simultaneously, too little*
*most days i only feel sporadic twinges of shame
displaying disfigurements my body bears
however
my spirit will always wear a masquerade mask
to cover the burns left by the devil’s newports.*
