My Dance With The Beast

The day I found 666 on my scalp, in the mirror, the number of the beast, like lightning the urges, wantonness... My life made sense. But the sixes were filled, each a mirror image, a quarter note, not the number of the beast, three quarter notes, one measure of a waltz. Like lightning the urges, wantonness... My life made sense: I was born to waltz!