​Old thoughts

The devil walks cold in all black, relaxed and young.

He doesn’t make a fuss by the time he’s passed, but he certainly has a point.

What’s the point?

“Fuck you.” That’s the point.

He never sleeps and he wants things.

He knows part of him is what man aspires to be.

He had the same walk when he lead every war.

There’s a groove in his step.

He’ll entice you with your deepest desires in a dark room and demand you walk in the rain until you die because he finds it humorous.

It’s a step at a time that leads you from that room to the rain.

He’s the serpents call in every sizzle off a drag from a cigarette.

He’s the cough that spreads, he’s the thoughts you dread.

We must understand an immortal is beyond time.

He may manifest himself as old.

A battered warrior… Your father.

It’s all an illusion of a sick mind.

God isn’t as cool as the devil, but what’s truly genuine doesn’t need style.

God’s not afraid to cry when you suffer.

He himself, the creator of everything may not have all the answers, but he loves you.

God is not about power or wealth, he’s about faith.

He too is a representation of your father.

One father is a representation of wrath, order achieved by any means.

The other is a representation of what’s good and what’s genuine.

At least and maybe only to me.