The Demon

A small section of a larger cycle I've been working on this week. More to follow.

Them.
They.
The thrashing passengers
lashed to my wheels,
my freight of fear as I
cast my narrow arrowness
forward,
always aggressing,
knife-light and lithe.
Alive.
Violent.
Crying my crazed
rage-roar pouring before me.
All the weight on my wheels
wails.
I will tear down, trained and
tricked out,
turned out and burned,
burning the last gasp,
gashing, flashing and
Feared.
The fires flare at
the core,
my centrality,
my Centralia.
How the howls hurl
themselves ahead,
daring the darkness,
shrieking their
banshee blandishments,
warning
warning
“She comes”.
“She comes”.

© 2014 Virginia Luella

Author's Note

Most interested in understanding what's being conveyed, so comments about interpretation are welcome, along with any other suggestions.

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Featured Review

Coyote Poetry

Nice use of words. I'm a Virgil and Dante fan. I like epic poetry and thoughts. The poem had a good flow of thoughts and places. The poem made me desire to read more. Dante's description of hell isn't pretty. Same with your words. You described a bad place to land. Thank you for sharing the excellent poetry.
Coyote