exorcism

my brother has a demon under his skin. carries it around in the hollow nooks of his head, lets him fill the gaps, swallowing the silence that would otherwise keep him sane. he keeps it tucked away with long white pills, i call them his caterpillars. they bloom butterflies in his stomach and their soft wings push it into hiding. it can't stand the colors. he can hear it in the distance; demands echoing off thought, intelligible. sometimes i can hear the demon breathing when i sleep, when i open my eyes i see my brother's silhouette against the wall, chest rising and falling heavy. his desire to kill is not his own, and neither is his body, possibly his soul.