Diagnosis
You are damned with this forever
You have no choice but to learn to dance with the devil on your back
And he has no fucking rhythm; swaying back and forth because he's drunk
This exasperated by me being drunk too
But how can I not be
No one else sees the devil, but they all promise that they believe me, they know someone else who has an invisible devil on their back, so they get it, sometimes they even think they have an invisible devil on their own back they say and then they laugh and you are meant to feel included, they kiss you on the forehead insincerely, yet you are still left feeling like Judas
Bionote
John Maurer is a 24-year-old writer from Pittsburgh that writes fiction, poetry, and everything in-between, but his work always strives to portray that what is true is beautiful. He has been previously published in Claudius Speaks, The Bitchin’ Kitsch, Thought Catalog, and dozens of others. @JohnPMaurer (johnpmaurer.com)
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