From the boughs of trees
in the Garden of Eden,
a great, heavy serpent emerges.
Its countless muscular movements
up, along my spine,
lead to my tingling skull.
And there,
quietly,
it fixes its fangs at the base.
I feel the venom catch the current of my blood and rush away with it,
and I'm paralyzed,
absently noting that I may soon die.
My speech is frozen in my mouth
as its cool, slippery sheath winds tighter
about my throat.
I blink away the weariness,
attempting to focus,
but its arrow of a head has arrived at my cheek.
Ah, there you are,
I say,
just as it unhinges its jaw,
and consumes me,
face first.

Oh star child, oracle divine
Help me decipher these visions of mine

So vibrant and vivid
It seems I'm committed
To madness

Work your magic
Read the heavens
Or the skies
Do you see truth
Or is it demise.

I beg you dreamwalker,
Seer of wonder and youth.
Bend my lost and fevered mind.

Stuck in the swallowing
emptiness. Unkown envy
screams from within my 
shuddering bones.
I breathe and try to ground
my mind as it skips among
the fields of hellfire
that surround my very being.

Of course, I always find
everlasting comfort in their
warmth.
As they burn my flesh
from my bone,
I am reminded of
the welcoming numbness.

Tick Tick Tick
The clock on the wall
Almost melodic, like
A metronome it plays

Tick Tick Tick
The time seems to crawl
But the thoughts hit me
Hard like a spike.
The voices like a frenzied craze.

Tick Tick Tick
The melody continues.
Trying to keep calm and stay cool
But the feeling continues to flow and ensue

Tick Tick Tick
The collection embues
Collecting and gathering, they pool.
I try my hardest to subdue.

Tick Tick Tick
The clock on the wall
continues to countdown
To my inevitable outburst

Tick Tick Tick
These thoughts continue to appall.
Attempting to drown
That which lies on me, this curse.

TICK
TICK
TICK

Then it chimes
It's inevitable
I'm responsible from my crimes
I should've known it was inescapable

The clock on the wall no longer ticks

-Navahopi119

Between the fissures of our existence,
there is a moment where we must all
decay into a garden of eternal beauty.

But for us to collect on the petals of
our demise, we must surrender.
Yielding to our fears of eternal silence.

We are all but a breath from our inevitable
decay, but we still try to water dead roots
that'll never grow again, dead flowers to ash.

Were prettier when were still, vacant allotments
of thought that'll never regrow. Where just a
moment of death consumed to never live again.

You said you
weren't
sure anymore,
that I would never
understand
and maybe
that's what you
wanted,
to see me
on my knees,
drenched
in a puddle
of tears,
tounge-tied with
your
abruptness
to end it all.