Sharks in the Sea

The door is shut. Silence is broken by my fan. Demons scratch to enter and I turn most away. I shove counsel their way. They want more. I keep the line for a half hour or so. The knock turns into a BANG. I rest back and relax into their demands here and overseas. I create with my mind so that no one will touch me actually. The demand has been so great of late. Hatred of myself is a curse over me since Oahu. I hide here in a painful heavy form. The tossing and turning produces pain in the wierdest places. Today, I bow to the sharks in the sea and transport them into a tank that is strange.