Destitute of Vision (draft)

"Hey, do you see that?"
"What, where?"
"Over there!"
"WHERE?!"
"There!"
"......I dont see it."
"Oh my god."

This is the type of moment that historically happens maybe once or so in your life.
You usually remember big moments like these
for the rest of your life.
They mark you like the bulgy scars of a massive cut to the epidermis.
This is a time when you look and you look and you just don't see.
You're unseeing; you're sightless; you're visionless.

They tell you the devil is among the crowd, and you don't see him.
You expect red, flames, hooves and a whole lot of evil painted on his ruby face.
But you see a random group,
not much different from what every random group looks like.

And then something happens--
maybe brought on from exhaustion by staring so long.
Confusion melts off of your expression like a wax face staring a hot sun.
And suddenly-- you realize that the devil looks just like you and me;
And you see him.
Maybe you will yourself so much to see it that you eventually do;
just like when they say that if you're depressed and smile hard enough
you start to believe that you're happy.
So you see him, and he's hideous.
It makes you wish you never saw him and would have done anything to pretended
to tell your friend you saw it, even though you didn't.
And the devil is neither red nor on fire.
He is wearing regular clothes,
like the ones on your back and mine.
How could one of our own be responsible for so many terrible things?
It almost seems inhuman.

(written 9/19/12 from 9:00pm-9:52pm)