The Imp of the Perverse by Edgar Allan Poe

It would
be impossible
to imagine
a deed
an action
a plan
and strategem

more carefully
meticulously
specifically
deliberately

put into
place

then
the one I did
commence
to Create

Andrew
my friend
he

I knew him well
he
did like to read
under
the light of the candle
next to his bed

how
he liked to read
Andrew my friend

novels and short stories
long stories
medium-stories

poetry
plays

playfully
musingly
relaxingly
he delayed the world
outside his walls
to enthrall
himself
in the most sacred
covenant of reader
and writer
blurred together
in communal splendor

there

next to his bed
in his living
room chamber
breathing in deeply
heavy
drinking
the fumes the air
around him
as
he
turned

the pages
from one
chapter to the next

yes

Andrew
My Friend
I knew him well

his habits
his customs
his little quirks
his Creature Comforts
his

well

let’s just
say

I knew
him

well

and so I did
plot and scheme
and dream
and devise

his demise
my friend Andrew
there
in his bedroom
there
reading in that little room
there
my
friend yes
my dear ole friend

I would see
that he came to a bad
end
the wrong conclusion
a twist
a turn
a self-dissolution
the
greatest
chapter
ever written
in this
novel world we live
in

where a man can sit
and imagine
all he
wants

while other devils
and demons
around
him

plot

and
scheme

and dream up horrible
things

poor Andrew
My Friend

I own thee

and so that night
that cold dark
night while
he was asleep
I did creep
in
he had given me a key
and with that key
I did enter
through his chamber
door

to the bedroom
area
where he had
his nightstick candle
illuminescence
breathing loudly
flickering flame

and I began
to let my plan
get drawn out
in real-life
space-time
dimension

switching his candle
for one of my own
brought from my
home
with a special little secret
contained
within

ready to be omitted
poisonous gas

ready to pass
through his nostrils
while he slept
while he read
while he walked
about his house
in his briefs
and robe

little would he know

this candle
this favorite
Creature Comfort
of his
was
slowly
slowly

slowly

slowly

choking him to death

and I’m out
like a light
into the night
an Owl Sophia
Wisdom Lucifer
bringer
of light
Satan the Perverse
the Impulse

what’s in a name?

let the games
begin my friend
Chapter 1
til the end

it will be a smooth
finish

And I need not wait
for the newspapers
to report
the death of my dear
friend Andrew

I already knew
the details
no
need for journalism
except for the journalistic
self-confessions
of a tortured soul my own

now to inhabit his home
which I would inherit
we were dear friends
like
brothers
you could say

even

like brothers

I sit
I sit
I sit inside that great mansion
with its little bedroom
chamber

I sit and read his books
Andrew’s books
his library
and I sit
and read
in his smoking jacket
and tweed
with his pipe
and his eyeglasses
and shotglasses
and Henessey

I sit and read
how I love to read
that’s one thing
we always did share

especially

Mystery

and as the days
crawl
crawl

crawl by me sluggishly
snailing their way
through time
wings-broken
I

sit there reading
the chapters
thinking about the chapter
I wrote
myself in Andrew’s book
of life now death

and I suddenly
start wondering
wondering
wondering
about how such a thing
could have happened
and knowing knowing
knowing that I was
the master puppeteer
my greatest symphony
yet nobody knew
it was me
and nobody would know
it was me
unless I desired
for some reason
somehow to tell somebody

somebody
anybody
that would be enough
if I could just tell them
if I could let them know
of my cunning
how I was able to pull
it off
how I was able to gain
my inheritancy
from Andrew my brother

I mean
my friend
my dear old friend

yes

how they would be impressed
how I would get this
nagging
brag
off my chest
to let it take wings and fly
to soar into the night’s sky

if only
if only

OH WHY!

I toss and turn in my sleep
I toss and turn in my dreams
in my sleep
and in my dreams
where I’m dreaming
and sleeping
too there I toss
and turn
even while awake
I am always tossing
and
turning

and tossing

and

turning

something
someone be my savior

LEND ME YOUR EARS!

I do declare
I do dare
I do desire
the IMP of the PERVERSE
will not let me
be
will not let me expire!

I must tell someone
anyone
of this cruel misfortunate
hilarious
wondrous splendiforous
fantastical deed
I have committed

here in this
bedroom chamber
where I do sleep

I run
run out into the streets
and there I get ready
to yell at the top
of my lungs
to all the world
to all of London

Here me Here me
I want to declare
I want to say
I want to –

but then I stop
wait
no I can’t
I whisper
I murmur under my
breath into the wind

“I Killed Him
I Killed My Friend
I Killed My Brother
I Killed Andrew
in this house
that I now Live in
I did
yes
I did Kill Him”

this
this I did whisper
and nothing
more
into the wind
the breeze
to flutter up into the trees
to escape the ears
and minds
of men
to go to
great Celestial Eternal
Heavens
for the angels
to do their own
reckoning

and I am peace
they will issue
the decree
in the afterworld
they will see
fit whether to take
me in or
cast
me to the pits
of hell
where
I will forever reside
with the Imps of
the Perverse

the satans
and devils
and demons
and bad dreams

of fiery
candle
illuminescence
and flames

but I guess
I spoke
just a bit too softly
for the softness
had turned
loudly
in the direction
of an on-coming
old lady
who knew precisely
this Andrew
friend of which I was speaking
and she knew me
since I was very young
just a teen
a kid some punk
I guess
some things don’t change
much

and she did stagger
back
ever-so dramatically
clutching to the side of the walls
seeing the evil look in my
eye
seeing my longing
my sadness
my forlorn despair
and
there
she fell down into
the sewer gutter

through the circular
entry-way
slippery black-stone
half-ajar

to my dismay!

O no this isn’t what I wanted
this isn’t the master-schematic
plans
aforementioned

this is a true tragedy
this is an achilles heel
of the Universe

this mis-fortune
this

truly Perverse

yet truly Natural
consequence
of living in a man-made
artifice
world
of buildings and streets
and sewers
where we so often
fall into the gutter
and bring
down those around
us into the slime
and sludge

to our deaths

she fell
she fell
in deep
I hear the crack
of her bones
landing in the watery
muddy sludgy
residue of refuse
below
down
down

down

10 feet below
into
the sewer hole

what a twist of fate
do I go in
go in for her

or do I turn
the sewer-cover
tightly over
the crevasse
the opening

locking her in
ensuring
her death
her entombment

this and more
I struggle
with
in
these moments
where dreams seem
such a wondrous
escape

won’t somebody
take me

AWAY?