Life was easier when I was possessed by demons.

 

There was a morning routine, for one.

First the demons would wake up,

spin my head around a few times

and fling me bodily from the bed.

 

Then I would wake up, 

and convince the demons 

that a shower was in all of our best interests.

I'd wash my hair while they counted

the spiders circling the drain.

 

I always had excuses when I was late to work.

"Sorry," I'd say, "I started foaming at the mouth on the highway,

screaming in a language no human ears were meant to hear."

They'd all laugh.

"Man, Mondays."

 

And when I had to turn away lovers

at the door, it was simple.

"At night my skin turns to coal and ash.

I gauge the pillows with my horns. I tear the sheets

with cloven hooves.

It's not you.

It's the demons."

 

Things were so much easier when I was possessed.

Now when I wake up, I just wake up alone.