"666"

A demon-possessed mental patient is overcome with a Messiah-complex.

The screaming voices in my head
reverberate and echo loud
iniquities and sins long dead
wrapped in an evil, wicked shroud.

The voices scream, “You’re the devil!”
and prophesy the Anti-Christ.
They accuse me of the evil
since mankind first became enticed.

I deny their demon voices
and take up the Lord’s Crucifix
and pray against demon noises
and damnation’s hellish matrix.

“Not Anti-Christ!” I do reply.
“Not devil,” I begin to shriek,
“for the Lamb of the world am I--
the world’s savior of the meek!”

Devils will meet their final hour.
They will scream in their anguished cries
when I at last know my real power
and expose all their sins and lies.

In this soft, padded cell of white
they watch and look on me with dread.
They view me as a nutty fright
and restrain me (except my head).

“Dear God! I hate these trippy drugs,”
I curse, “that they shoot in my a*s!”
They hold me down, these hall-guard thugs--
injecting Thorazine real fast.

(Why am I locked away by men
when I am the One crucified!?).
“Dear God,” I cry, “may the heathen
know me as the one prophesied!”