Envenomed.

I see it slithering its way to the spot where I stand,

from a distance, with persistence it knows where I am;

 

I know it’s after any remaining peace of mind,

a new disaster if I fall for its lullaby this time;

 

it has this way of coiling tightly about my feet,

ratcheting and squeezing the life out of me;

 

it whispers the things I dream someone might say,

it tickles the most secret parts of my brain;

 

I see it slithering its way back onto my scene,

from whence I sent it packing for behaving cruelly;

 

trying to maneuver a snake-like body in ways,

that go by unnoticed, without causing any waves;

 

I keep trying to run but I can’t claim any real ground,

like a clown-house with warped mirrored walls all around;

 

like the jingling of bells – that sweet tinkling noise,

the rushing of wind and the river’s raging voice;

 

I see it slithering through sand, grass and snow,

it’s on my heels wherever I think to cleverly go;

 

I don’t want it near me, to touch me or hear me,

this snake they call “Love” lives too venomously.

8 thoughts on “Envenomed.

  1. So F’ing pure in every finely slithered line of just damned genius
    That last line seals it a friggin treat, grade beyound A write

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Mr Modigliani says:

    There is a brilliance in this piece. The use of the snake as metaphor is so appropriate

    Liked by 1 person

  3. doubtpuppet says:

    before the last 2 lines I was sure it was about OCD!

    Liked by 1 person

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