A Snake

If a snake slithers do not question its duplicity,

If it stares you with warmth do not doubt its tendencies to do harm,

 

If the rattle of the rattlesnake shakes do not be surprised of the sting,

If your knees buckle do understand that his poison has made you weak, and your systems will soon follow.

 

Do you feel the basic emotions flooding your nervous system?

It’s the temptation of the unknown,

It’s the aggressive curiosity that curses the wandering mind,

Ensuring you remain blind to the fragility of your condition,

You will always be placed in the position to make the right choice,

It will absolutely always be your decision to break the souls of those who care for you,

And with that awful tunnel vison your support will shatter like glass on the ground before you.

 

You will not be the first devourer, you will not jest the first joke I’ve had the pleasure to laugh at,

I am recognizing a familiarity in areas I would rather be naïve,

The snake speaks in a language you want to believe,

But do remember,

A snake is a snake,

And it would not be the snake’s but your mistake,

That would break the hallowed ground we’ve taken years to create,

I pray to God in heaven that you did not soil yourself for a temporary pleasure,

For that is a mindlessness for which I cannot relate…

A snake…is a snake,

So help you God.

 

 

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4 Days

Your suspension of belief,

Bring it,

I need no interference,

I can’t think,

With the gods staring down my back-

As I chisel a simple motif,

Into the dim lit-

Corridor who’s face shall shrink,

Once the entire setting goes black.

We need to walk again

Without ridicule,

Into the chest of your devil,

To subdue the pending threat-

You speak highly of.

I promise we are safe,

He cannot hear you here for he cannot reflect within himself,

We are his conscious now,

Let us steer the beast.

Beware,

His demise, is your demise,

And your demise, is my demise,

So be light with your touch and pray we do not become the monster you hate.

Day 1.

I can hear his victim’s cries,

I can see the smirk, in the mirror, to which he sports,

Like a new do of sorts,

Staring his crush in her eyes,

He is not clean.

Day 2.

We fear to feed,

On his innards,

For we will truly be one,

We cannot munch on something he needs,

For all of true progress would be for none,

We must starve.

Day 3.

He hears us,

His breath hath changed,

She prays to gods,

I forget their names,

He is heartbreak,

And he is untamed,

He is unclean,

He is unashamed,

He is always new,

And never the same,

He is heartbreak,

I believe I’ve found his name.

Final Day.

His halls are black,

I cannot see, we cannot see,

The soul light lacks,

I cannot recognize myself you see, not at all in fact,

We are weak and broken, he is all intact,

She became him,

I became me,

…We cannot go back,

He stands tall and spits me out,

They become one,

He begins to sprout-

A new head from her scorn,

A new monster newborn,

—-

I guess I’ve seemed to escape…

From what we all can relate.

 

 

Untouch

I have inadvertently given quiet refuge to the forbidden desires of a pure soul,

I have catalyzed the corruption by caution-less acrobats,

With electric hands and a caring heart-

She now resembles both the main antagonist and protagonist of my fairy tale-

I tell to myself every night before I rest to ensure sleep,

I am starting to notice that the rotting could run deep-

Into her mentality,

And deeper into her personality,

Which would neutralize those electric hands and numb that caring heart,

Her disagreeable complex would rebuke her individuality and spoil rotten her image,

She would be unknowingly a herald of normalcy,

A feverous heretic to my cause,

I would lose her to the melting pot of low youth living he high life in the middle of insecurity and ignorance.

 

I would close my doors to her black touch and reset the nature of my shelter.

 

Dream 2

Smoke filled the area of my room,
She appeared in white garbs,
She fell sickly into my arms biting her tongue on the collapse,
She bulged her eyes with heavy tears that weighed down my chest,
I stared into her brown eyes and caught the storm in soul,
I reached inside her ribs to grab the pain from her breast and held remarkably tight,
My knee kept behind her head,
I took my hands from her pain and wrapped my arms her,
And held softly,
Her brown skin combusted into tan dust,
I scooped in my palms trying to capture her remains,
Instantly my life changed,
Instantly my fight changed,
Changed from fighting for her into fighting to stay sane,
Her storm moved to me,
My bones rained the water of her memories that remain plastered on my forehead and constantly sitting on my brain.
I have lost her again.

Dream 2.

Our Sanctuary

As the houses burn around us, we try to save our own. We build defenses of formidable measure to withstand the most perilous of onslaughts. We fortify our roofs with unbreakable ethics and stay true to our shelter. We stay away from our windows because they show us what we must do without; the pain and misery outside those doors deal great damage to our exposed exteriors. We craft our success to persevere through the fact of eventual failure.

We’ve pointed out spades of errors in the integrity of our fellowmen’s houses…we pledge not to make those same mistakes. I have one other, one other person in this bout of foul play, I stare my darling in her eyes as she set flames to our drapes boding slow death to our sanctuary, she was freezing and needed a heat my body could not provide. The chandeliers fall to the ground and burst into glass cutting chunks of fresh meet from my sensitive legs. I stare my darling in her eyes, I stare my darling in her eyes, I stare my darling…in her eyes as she promises forever…confounding reason with flames. I beg my beloved, who which has the power to remove, these flames from our haven, to not mimic the shortcomings of her friends, I beg my beloved to make eternal peace with her heart and not temporary splendors with her actions. I beg my beloved to think about her honor and truth, for these virtues can rebuild our home. I fear the weight of a vexing plight and allure of a false tomorrow may fill her lungs with that cinnamon smoke, and that is when…I will lose her.

If I Could

…grant her access to my mind with a roadmap of what rooms not to open-

I would pick her up by her perfect waist and place her at my doorway,

I would swear to my god that her experience would end in accord after her exclaiming me a prophet,

There would no longer need a reason to speak,

I would no longer have to give her a sneak peak through the window in the foyer,

Her body would bow, we would grow, and her heart would finally genuinely know,

What I mean by unconditional.

 

She would find her solution hanging from the fixtures,

She would see the potential of her future in the pictures,

She would be able to recognize the scent in the home,

And never ever have to question the reason why I fear being alone.

She would probably laugh at the clutter of yesterday’s expectations-

While running through the hallway in a fit of desperation to find my final declaration…the reason.

 

I feel she would search for weeks,

Body broken and heels weak,

Starring at her surroundings until she reaches a mirror and falls to her knees,

She, the reason, controls the pictures on the walls,

Controls the smell of the home,

Controls the complex fear of being alone,

With three simple words.

 

We would exit in peace fingers braided,

With forever a possibility again.

A Laugh

I am surrounded by tickled people,

And on my best day,

I cannot remember to laugh at the joke,

It’s something I can’t say,

Something about womenfolk that onsets the chuckles.

I am surrounded by gentlemen,

Upstanding and true-

That are arrested by the prospects of romanticism and chivalry,

It is ostensibly present in everything that they do,

This ensues a respect for women that some would call extinct,

But while these attributes lay closely with nobility,

The different hearts of their companions crush their potential,

The ship sinks for those men upholding civility,

They are no longer deemed essential and collapse under the desires of their lady,

Their hearts are second because nobility exclaims it.

I see this men giggling over their corrosion as they begin to lose themselves,

With her feet on his chest he rests in chaos and wakes in pain,

Everyday,

For this, I cannot laugh.