wank

My demons are a host of tiny chattering, clattering skeletons. Maybe I'm just used to them, but they seem friendly, except when they get underfoot and I accidently tread on them. The first I know of it is a delicate crunching sound as their little bones shatter; they pick themselves up, shake themselves together, and whirl round my head peevishly. Their faces are surprisingly animated for tony skulls, and their voices are like a flock of excited birds.

They're not really good at their job. Maybe it's because they're kinda cute; maybe it's because there are so many of them that their individual demon voices are lost. When I'm happy they seem content to just hang around, and only the bolder ones flit over to whisper 'this can't last...' in my ear. The whole flock gets excited when they get to say, 'We told you so', and they loop and cartwheel around my head, and settle on my shoulders to hold parliaments of self-congratulation.

The only ones I don't really like are the blue ones - even the others seem to shun them, and they disappear when they're around. They're sneaky, and they take advantage of the sudden booming silence to taunt me. They love to do this when I'm out having fun, often in those lulls at a club's bar or toilet. Or they wait til I've gotten home, and I'm enjoying a reunion with my doona. They swoop down, and mutter, 'god, you're an idiot, with that big silly grin on your face'. I smile, cos I know their tricks, but they keep it up until I'm too tired to ignore them; then they sweep away into the night knowing that I'll believe them, for a little while at least, and toss and turn over all the stupid things I've done.

I've thought about leaving them all behind, but I think I'd miss them. I know them, and they know me, and their constant giggling and chatter has become a soundtrack for my life.

And hell, better the demons you know...