Generic

The demon spits me out 
when I am not too favourable a digest. 
To later find me delicious, 
and to gorge himself on my rest. 
His belly forever screaming out; 
In the middle of the night, 
to stand at the window, 
and whisper a shout. 
His words, a line to reel me in. 
Oh, the belly of the demon's my pothole 
on this slippery road of sin. 
A seeming pattern of darkness; here and there. 
...And one day,I fear, 
He finds it plain, 
To make me the matter 
Of his veins. 
To never and forever be cast out 
From his flaming base. 
And I am then the demon; 
My final resting place.

The belly of the demon