61/365: care and feeding of demons

demons are the stuff of strangled dreams -
crib dead, aborted -
they speak to us in sonorous
blue
and bloody tones;
they walk in forms made
from the husks of desire and lust.

one-handed, we feed them
from our radial artery -
all while we wail about injustice
and point about meaningfully
with the other hand.

this is the price of life support
for a thing we cannot let die.