Take me down to that darker place. The one where all the smoke gathers in the black air. Let me sip amber and talk a line.
Listen, don’t frown.
Those lies mean more than you can imagine. They are my gospel and my damnation. For a life eternal, I have eternal lies. It suits me. They are my proof that I can go on. One day this line of lies will be my truth, if I tell it enough.
Then let me smile and reconsider. There’s always that moment of reconsideration in which all the black places in the world couldn’t fill the darkness that dwells beneath the surface of my eyes. I know the devil that I am and the daemons I have made. What’s worse, I know that every penance will never be enough for my red hands to be washed clean because of it all. Still I pray for my infrequent god and wish for salvation by the damned.
But I won’t tell you the truth. I’ll feed you a smile and drink away the doubt that eats at me. No truth is worth the damnation that would follow.
Tell me no. Tell me that you want to know, that you want every detail as you always do. Plead your case again before your empty god. Your prayers and sacrifices have been seen and noted, but you give them to a man, not a god. I’m just a jester in the court of gods. Do not mistake immortality for godliness. I am anything but.
That’s all I am, I am your empty god. To others I am a blemish in their pure day, yet you see in me a haven of virtue that I have never possessed.
Clear your eyes, little girl, and go back to the false gods of men, and leave this empty devil to his drink and his darkness.