Location, Location, Location.

So where were you when the Devil visited?
Where you at home, all alone? It’s where he visits most.
Where you at school, in the halls? Surrounded by our science?
In the mall, where it’s all circumstance and commerce?
Where you at church, surrounded by the “sacred”; forbidden territory even to Lucifer himself?
Where the devils are hidden by the angelic hosts’ images and icons,
Where the Reverend’s sermon casts away the spells,
And the atrocities are merely hidden until after close?
Candles and saints and old ladies and stained glass
can’t be seen when the lights are off, and only the janitors are around to keep each other company.


You were in the library; surrounded by the dusty thoughts of dusty men’s dusty dreams.
Beside them on the casket shelves sit ancient ideas and ancient pens; they make up a graveyard of sin, for he even visited men then.
He came from a thought on a page, from a word now engrained
as an idea in your veins; a fire sparked from the oh so flammable dust of ancient sinners.

How ironic; a graveyard visit from the king of the dead.