Evil resides in me, rod, line & sinker

I ledger it meticulously,
from behind,
as it scolds itself, headbutts, apologizes

I pacify it
with a full defecation
out in the morning toilet
I notice its two towels;
a burgundy one for planned wickedness,
a yellow one for spontaneous agonies

I run, shove, scuttle
into the mountain cabin's grasp in a diary,
feel evil insist, dropping words, one by one
in migraine-attacked stagger
over the teeth's fence,
out into the epilepsy of the environment,
to be surrounded by broad legged blame,
received, redirected against the grain,
against the flow

Evil dwells within me

I calculate its algorithms
in dinner table marketings

Control itches in my fingers,
gropes in my fumbles

The pots fit neatly together;
may the handles cooperate
into a mimicry of sunlight;
a dream of consensus in cloudless skies

Evil curls in the grey weather;
the streets of Helsingborg screech;
the tenements shabby, impersonal, addressed

The evil inside me takes note of me
with pencils,
fits me into the reliefs of Persepolis
alongside a couple of Japanese guys,
Kozo & Yozi,
who were on their way from Paris to wisdom,
but now their spirits' attire remains
in a morning-chilled Shiraz

Evil resides in me,
as well as in the crowds,
with a certain right

I happily run down a muddy slope
in a dream;
so damn fast;
my observations bounce
through the street grids of the world,
with pure malice,
but evil nails them shut,
so I write,
eye to eye with myself;
Evil Blooms;
a measureless, Francofile endeavour