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Viciousness in the kitchen!
The potatoes hiss.
It is all Hollywood, windowless,
The fluorescent light wincing on and off like a terrible migraine,
Coy paper strips for doors --
Stage curtains, a widow's frizz.
And I, love, am a pathological liar,
And my child -- look at her, face down on the floor,
Little unstrung puppet, kicking to disappear --
Why she is schizophrenic,
Her face is red and white, a panic,
You have stuck her kittens outside your window
In a sort of cement well
Where they crap and puke and cry and she can't hear.
You say you can't stand her,
The *******'s a girl.
You who have blown your tubes like a bad radio
Clear of voices and history, the staticky
Noise of the new.
You say I should drown the kittens. Their smell!
You say I should drown my girl.
She'll cut her throat at ten if she's mad at two.
The baby smiles, fat snail,
From the polished lozenges of orange linoleum.
You could eat him. He's a boy.
You say your husband is just no good to you.
His Jew-Mama guards his sweet *** like a pearl.
You have one baby, I have two.
I should sit on a rock off Cornwall and comb my hair.
I should wear tiger pants, I should have an affair.
We should meet in another life, we should meet in air,
Me and you.

Meanwhile there's a stink of fat and baby crap.
I'm doped and thick from my last sleeping pill.
The smog of cooking, the smog of hell
Floats our heads, two venemous opposites,
Our bones, our hair.
I call you Orphan, orphan. You are ill.
The sun gives you ulcers, the wind gives you T.B.
Once you were beautiful.
In New York, in Hollywood, the men said: 'Through?
Gee baby, you are rare.'
You acted, acted for the thrill.
The impotent husband slumps out for a coffee.
I try to keep him in,
An old pole for the lightning,
The acid baths, the skyfuls off of you.
He lumps it down the plastic cobbled hill,
Flogged trolley. The sparks are blue.
The blue sparks spill,
Splitting like quartz into a million bits.

O jewel! O valuable!
That night the moon
Dragged its blood bag, sick
Animal
Up over the harbor lights.
And then grew normal,
Hard and apart and white.
The scale-sheen on the sand scared me to death.
We kept picking up handfuls, loving it,
Working it like dough, a mulatto body,
The silk grits.
A dog picked up your doggy husband. He went on.

Now I am silent, hate
Up to my neck,
Thick, thick.
I do not speak.
I am packing the hard potatoes like good clothes,
I am packing the babies,
I am packing the sick cats.
O vase of acid,
It is love you are full of. You know who you hate.
He is hugging his ball and chain down by the gate
That opens to the sea
Where it drives in, white and black,
Then spews it back.
Every day you fill him with soul-stuff, like a pitcher.
You are so exhausted.
Your voice my ear-ring,
Flapping and *******, blood-loving bat.
That is that. That is that.
You peer from the door,
Sad hag. 'Every woman's a *****.
I can't communicate.'

I see your cute décor
Close on you like the fist of a baby
Or an anemone, that sea
Sweetheart, that kleptomaniac.
I am still raw.
I say I may be back.
You know what lies are for.

Even in your Zen heaven we shan't meet.
Santiago Nov 2015
"Caught In A Hustle"

[Verse 1]
They say the odds against me, are crooked and impossible
Like I was born with a hole in my heart is an obstacle
I was left to die by the doctors, in the Children's Hospital
But I never lose hope, success is psychological
The world is volatile and the street is my education
Shaping the nation, like the blueprint of a mason
While Shawshank record deals get you ***** on occasion
So I'm focused on my economic situation
I'm like the little kids on TV that dig through the trash
I hustle regardless of the way you talk **** and laugh
A lot of ****** drop science but they dont know the math
Because their mind is narrower than the righteous path
It's funny how on the block ****** will **** you for cash
But never raise the gun and cry out "Freedom at last"
The cold war is over but the world is still gettin colder
Atlas walking through the projects with the hood on my shoulders
I would like to raise my children to grow to be soldiers
But then the general, would decide when their life would be over
So I work hard until my personality split
Like the black panthers, into the bloods and the crips
They said I would never be ****, but now I sit and reminice
Like Yeshua ben Yusef flippin through Genesis
Ignorance is venemous, and it murders the soul
Spreading like a virus running rampant, but out of control

[Hook]
So if I should ever fall and get caught in a hustle
Let them know that I died while I fought in a struggle
From the hoodrats to the rich kids lost in a bubble
Spray painting on the streets and at the subway tunnels
Write it down and remember that we never gave in
The mind of a child is where the revolution begins
So if the solution has never been to look in yourself
How is it that you expect to find it anywhere else

[Verse 2]
Immortal Technique in the streets, back on the hustle
cause three strikes will get you life for stuffin cracks in a duffle
Upstate behind steel gates intact in the scuffle
Razor blades stuck on the side of pencils, hacked to your muscle
But the emptiness is what bleeds you to death when it cuts you
And its the lawyers, not the inmates scheming to *******
Trying to fight the system from inside, eventually corrupts you
But thats what you get when you put a corporation above you
And it's the people that love you that seem to hurt you the most
Sometimes when they die you find yourself cursing their ghost
But you make success, nobody delivers your fate
Sometimes you give and you take
Since prehistoric vertibrates, crawled out of the lakes
And thats the truth about life
Or to do it to ghetto and your car, rims, and your ice
Because even though we survived through the struggle that made us
We still look at ourselves through the eyes of people that hate us
But I'm going to make it regardless of the ******* up charges
And semi-automatic barrages, that empty the cartridge
Post-traumatically scar kids that try to be brave
Because ****** backstab each other just to try to get paid
Turn cannibal like nights during the crusades
Afraid of responsibility; addicted to greed
Beating their girls purposefully losing a seed
As if we were bound to the destiny we used to recieve

[Hook]

I used to wonder (I used to wonder) about people who don't believe in themselves
But then I saw the way that they portrayed us to everyone else
That cursed us, then only see the worst in ourselves
blind to the fact the whole time we were hurting ourselves

I used to wonder (I used to wonder) about people who don't believe in themselves
But then I saw the way that they portrayed us to everyone else
That cursed us, then only see the worst in ourselves
blind to the fact the whole time we were hurting ourselves

I used to wonder [echo]
One of my favorite songs.
PrttyBrd Dec 2014
Letters fill my lungs
As I fight to breathe, to live...
Still choking on words
12214
senryu
krm Jul 2017
When wisps of dandelions lay still in the blanket of your hair,
and your eyes can no longer say I love you,
without your lips moving.
I know my world has ended.
We stood on the porch
with the wind chimes blowing songs through my ears.

There's still something there through this Armageddon. I recollect the curve of your smile or the shape of your face
in every single pool of water I come across.
Your eyes had a haunting quality about them,
as they look through my hollowed out frame,
and see what wars I've fought.

It was your time darling,
your time I bought.

I know,
my world is ending.

The skin of strangers bone's looks dimmer,
and your heart looks darker.
When it's revealed in the quiet of our room.
That distorted haziness your voice gets when you're tired, is there all the time.
I can never help but wonder what I did wrong.

Asteroids come hurling towards me
at a thousand miles an hour,
The world is ending.
Just as predicted.

Where are you now?
Clairvoyant and always knew just what to do.
What happens now that I've been left behind.
What happens now that I can't pick up the pieces?

Your promises never looked more beautiful,
than when you couldn't keep them.
Lies never seemed more eloquent
than when you couldn't stop telling them.



Your face it haunts me.
Your words they weaken me.
Your hours we devoted to one another- cut through me.

I'm not afraid anymore,
to do this alone.
Let the flames engulf me,
let my skin hang loosely from the bone.
Let me drown.
Let me fade.
Let me waste away.
Let me be reborn.
Let me live again.
Let me find a way back to earth.
Let my soul go on.

There was a time I thought of adoration
when mention of you,
but it's now replaced with bitter resentment.

In the miscalculated performance,
you couldn't be faithful.

And now I see-
dandelions are just weeds.

And now I see-
I see everything.
The honesty your spirit lacked,
the lies you spoke from cracked lips.

And the venemous kisses you placed upon my skin,
I was poisoned- to think I saw everything from your perception
and ignored my own crumbling world.

Now, we are nothing.
Jafer Ali Khan Jul 2018
Living in a different time zone, still reeling from past decisions.

Fighting venemous events to no avail,
not letting go of lasting mass incisions.

Excision of life's excitements.
Removal of my livers, kidneys, colons,
but still, I shiver in the coldness
of the living.

Admitting to the voices in my head,
that the Lord's mercy still extends,
into heaven for the choices of the dead,
who did the devil's bidding.

A foolish folly for a younger self,
to fall afoot amongst a rotten hell,
hellish landscape brought into the realm,
of mortals and the bedroom shelves.

All my dreams upon a table,
and in the dusty drawers there lies the pain.
Honestly I'm never able,
to entrust another lover with my reigns.

To fly I must begin to build momentum,
but something's caught up on me and instead preventing.

And slowing my ascension,

Also did I mention,
that every other moment that I spend here in atonement
is a ticking to a redder deathly sentence.

Repentance, with a mix of learned and unearned lessons, accuses those who lied.
Impresses extra stress especially when the ghostly men attend and lean up on my bedside.

I use to shy away but now I stare them in the eyes.

Fear's been long gone since childhood,
when crazy layovers in hazy places
played a part of strongly breaking bonds with those I thought were good.

I've felt my death a million times and dreamed it millions more.
And yet I never let myself fall victim to the final tricks of it's afflictions.

Meaning it's a situation still remaining unexplored.

I know what I lived for, and I know exists a future still in store.

But god ******* ****** life is such a chore.

Lord,
Give me strength and give me more.
JA Doetsch Jul 2012
I walked to the place today
the place where our bridge
   used to be.  
It's still hidden
deep within my mind.  I
know the way to the spot
all too well.

I stand and look across the chasm

The structures that anchored our bridge
to the canyon wall are now overgrown
  with ivy and vines.  The once
mighty body of the bridge itself
   lies a thousand feet below, slowly
eaten away by the river of change.
The river that also eats away at our
canyon walls, pushing us ever further
      apart.

I remember when we built that bridge.
I saw you across the ravine.  You didn't
notice me, you were too busy smelling
the tiger lilies.  I was in awe.
I felt like a fool pretending to be wise
I felt like a boy pretending to be a man

I yelled towards you, hoping you'd notice.
You did.
You smiled.
I almost died right there.

I sent you love poems on kites
You always blushed as you read

Then one day I threw over a line.
It was just the beginning.
Over the months, I built upon that
line, until I had constructed a
mighty bridge to
Span the gap


I was finally together with you
Everything was right.  My life
was filled with a soothing light.


I remember the night our bridge collapsed.
I remember the hateful words and venemous,
acidic thoughts that became kindling.
We spit bile and gasoline soaked barbs at each other
soaking the bridge with discontent.
We hurled insults at breakneck speeds, creating
sparks with the collisions.  The result was a towering
inferno between us.  It was fueled by contempt and
selfishness.  

Still we shouted, unaware of the permanence of what
we were doing

By the time we came to our senses, we were too late.
The bridge creaked and bowed as the fire consumed
it.  I remember the last thing I saw before it fell.  I saw
your eyes staring at me through the flames, your
beautiful eyes lit up by the moment.  The tears
reflected off of your face.

The bridge finally plummeted into the abyss below.  It
was a falling star of potential energy.  What we could
have had. I cringe when I think of how black the river
looked that night.


Now I'm standing here at the spot that it all
started.  I look up, and I see you on the other
side again.  You're wearing a white dress and
a smile.

I smile back.
My heart glides.

Ready to begin anew
Scott Swanger Jul 2011
we were no better
than the dirt that clung
to our feet, as we ran
away from what was important.

we were dumb to the ways
of a limitless God with a
venemous wrath.

and we laughed.
as he was killing us.

we thought we had tricked
everything we had known
to exist. and that we were
all that was infinite and all
that was holy.

and all that was right,
as i sat with you,
balancing our weight
between earth and sky,
what you and i knew to be
love and ultimately
indifference.

they will say that we were
all blind, walking around as
if we saw something that
nobody else could.

because we were that great.
and we got it all wrong.
I have this habit (I can't tell if it's good or bad) of writing poems in a very short amount of time. I started this one at 2:15. I finished it at 2:25.
Joe Hill Apr 2010
delerious, drowning in a sea of self-loathing
smoke clouds my eyes, the fire feuled by broken potential
untouched resources burn and vanish
only ashes remain to taunt me
only the mirror remains to haunt me
only venemous laughter to daunt me
stifle my every thought
is it suprising then that i lie alone
in the filth and darkness of fear
never to rise, never to sleep
always to dream, always to be reminded
of what will never be...
Haydn Swan Nov 2016
Love slithered up my sleeve
like a sun parched python
coiling around my soul
making its home in the sanctuary found within
venemous words spit forth their guile
antitdote saught in nights comforting arms
the moons radiant smile comes forth from a bottle,
stars decadent radiance cascades from a tear,
I'll hide in a sucumbant dream,
on yesterdays and alibis I shall rest this weary head.
Teresa Smith Feb 2014
There are days when you wake up and your body is not your own.
And if you could just peel off your skin for a second, you would surely find a hollowness that doesn't end.
And you don't know what's right or if you're on the right track, and even the things you love feel far away.

You may not feel worthy enough to take comfort. But that's okay. Tomorrow will be better.
And if not, the next day has to be.

And somedays you wake up and you're on.
I mean, you know exactly who the ******* are. And you feel unstoppable.

And your mind doesn't feel so treacherous.
And the blood in your veins no longer feels venemous.

And if you peel back your skin for just a second, you would find you who are,
and were once before, and will eventually be.
July 26, 2013
TJ Colon Nov 2015
To you,
Substitute-
A mere copy,
Nothing more than a
Last minute stand in.
I am addressing
You and only you
Mr Substitute.

You who maliciously
Attempted to make my
Son feel less than;
You who with your
Contrived agenda
Sought to edify
Your unequivocal ignorance
Thinking that the
Young Puerto Rican boy was
Likely another statiscal
Data point representing
Yet another victim of a
Fatherless phenomenon yet,
There we were-
That Puerto Rican boy's
Mother and Father
At the school house,
Bright and early
To shine a light and
Expose your uneducated and
Ill informed ***.

May we
You and I
Discuss politics on an
Even playing field
Mr. Substitute,
While in your little world
You fumble over
Your phone
Pressing 1 for English or
2 for Spanish,

Let me translate

Let me educate
You substitute
So that next time
You decide to
run your mouth,
Consider keeping mute.

Before you choose
To marginalize
An entire race
Let's have a face to face

Mr. Substitute
My son comes from
Those very people
You express such
Disdain for
Those people who
Have bled and died
For this country since
The first World War

Perhaps that historical fact
Escapes you
While you make no effort to
Teach the truth
You can't hide the fact that
They also bled and died
In the name of freedom in
World War Two

Korea
Vietnam and Panama
Iraq and Afghanistan
Serving, bleeding, and dying
Just hoping to secure
Their place
Amongst society
So that you can

Let loose your vile tongue.
Instead of teaching
The value of equality
And sparking a sense of
Hope in the young,
Understand though
Mr. Substitute
Both karma and I are
Far from done.

I chose to exercise civility
In my quest to
Teach you a lesson
In humility
A lesson in diversity

Oh how I wish
that were me
Looking back at you
In that classroom
Mr. Substitute.
Fortunately,
The blood that runs
Through my fiery veins
Runs through my sons.

Under no circumstance
Will he accept the
***** matter that
Effortlessly flows
Through your
Venemous lips.

Unlike you
Mr. Substitute
We are accepting of others
Even if you yourself are
Nothing short of
A misguided
Intolerant bigot,

My son and I
Refuse to
Stand idly by
Without exposing
You as the
Village idiot.....

Mr. Substitute
How unfortunate that in this day and age an educator, someone in a position to help shape and mold the young mind of high school students, felt compelled to share his political agenda in a class that had absolutely nothing to do with politics. He approached two young students, one of them my son, and proceeded to make some inflammatory and discriminatory remarks against Hispanics. My wife and I were standing tall at the school doors at first light to report this misguided bigot. I took the civil route in allowing the school's Principal to address this disgusting issue. I hope to see results otherwise i will pursue this matter further and make no mistake, I will find a way to bring a great deal of attention to this matter if the school tries to sweep this under the rug. Here is a piece I wrote about this experience as my mind was mired in dissapointment, anger, and confusion...
Cia Says Apr 2013
My love
I walk
beside two quarrelling lovers
I have you now
But my heart breaks in Lu of your past
She's beautiful
And she wants you
Thinks she loves you
wants to control you
She wanted to be your everything
Please tell me I'm your everything
Cause I want what she wanted
And I'm looking for an answer
Please
If I ever walk away, don't leave me in the rain
Cause my world would shatter
If you didn't truly love me

My love
What promises did you break?
And if we succumbed to the same fate
would you leave me in the rain?
All the things you said
All the things you did
Break my heart
I never knew such pain
could exist in the past
And stabs me now
All the words spoken
my love
Your lust broke my heart

He says
My love
It was lust
I was hurt
I was crushed
She didn't listen
And she lost
My love
I cannot take back my past
If I could, I would
But what I say is true
I love you
With every breath I take

And with that
All hearts are broken
She waits for you my love
And it breaks my heart
She writes venemous words
That eat his soul
I see it wash over him
my lack of trust
holds him back
And our love
Paints her black
Now~
All hearts are broken
Maeve Oct 2013
His arms
His lips
His hands
Venemous to the core
They stung as they touched me
But so excitingly painful.
I knew he'd left his mark
I knew the poison would spread
And the walls I built would slowly deteriorate
Break me down as he found his next victim
But he was a drug
An addiction
Something I couldn't escape.
The way my stomach jolted
When those fingers tugged at my hips
The way my body froze
When he kissed my lips
The way my skin heated up
When his arms wrapped around as he kisses my cheek
Maybe a sudden inervention was for the best
But I know tomorrow when he does it again
I'll be as weak as I've ever been
aurorahopes Feb 2015
Do fear being intoxicated by the
fumes of our dreams, that
slithers into the air and
like snakes with fangs venemous
one bite is
addictive.

And there are dreams that are left suspended,
hovering like fireflies, dreams of undying light
but hang like pitiful apples from an
apple tree, that nobody wants to eat from.

Yet the whiff of a dream dying is
crippling to hope
because each dream is like a candle,
so you must let the flame burn,
the wax to drip-
drop
for you to make something of-
even if it is a little meek.
dreams
Athena Sep 2015
Look at me.
My eyes,
How when I write they get wide as dinner plates.

The ocean flows out of them,
The waves of words flow across the page.
They roar and go 30 feet in the air.
They crash down and pull your emotions with them.
But when you touch me,
I do not feel the ocean anymore.
Venemous.
That is what you are to me.
Filling my head with garbage.
Putting waste in my veins.
But did you know that you can get addicted to negativity?

I threw away the garbage and bleached my veins.
The only thing that fills me now is the ocean.
Listen to the sea shell and hear my words.
Listen...
I am the ocean,
Will you be my tide?
I want to fall in love so badly because he destroyed me, and i need help putting myself back together
Ash Jun 2021
the jade of my heart
an ever drifting sea of emerald
a soft summer breeze across
golden sands

november earth
and december snow
seasons of idyllia

stars adrift
shifting and searching, all for
a single rose buried
in a venemous cage
with love
OnwardFlame Jun 2017
Like a thunder clap of
Colorfully venemous wings
Anxiety blows it's horn
At the tip top of
The unicorn
And with our thudding fists
Dry fingertips
We interlace our palms
And ride off into
What we know not.

The sun has gone down
In the Chicago skyline
I reside and waltz
Into the heart of any city
Cultivating and relishing
A life I never dreamed I'd have.

I'll often think
I don't know what anything looks like
Anymore
As a chorus of wolves
In head to toe sheep skin
Cry out like in latin
Cry out like in latin.

But as we carry on
Into the sea of unknowns
Perhaps we all love a little harder
Practice a little more kindness
All while
Maintaining
Our velocity.
(revamped, retooled, and reviewed for the mad council).

Admiration and kudos to quick as
greased lightening witted language
mongers gifted with means to deflect,
stave off, or thwart venemous, sacri
legious, pompous,et cetera lethal
impacts delivered chiefly to ***
*** in ate character, degrade, ex
Cory ate, where deliberate hefty
insult bruited viz zit head via bit
ting acrimonious gloating by some

trumpet ting twelfth knight, Mar-a-
Lago dwelling, Don Juan, Cassa
nova interloper ideally to be met
and taken rite off guard with cutting,
fitting, and incriminating scythe leant
taste of bitter pill as bad medicine
measure for measure, which earns
repartee deliverer at the least (cut
ting to, the quick principled litter
a chore thieving magpie klepto

maniac maven anyway) raising
the bar, per how can eye whip up
a creative reply to ward psychic
bruises as would be confirmed
by an x-ray evidencing sharp black
Amy Lloyd Barbs lobbed my way.  
Plight reiterated and described again re
phrased as mine good humor hum
dinger mew zing ct-scan reveals
(outsize funny bone) pinpointing

tiny thesaurus sim card firmly
permanently embedded, where temple
(my Mansfield) binds as the Great
Chaim Yonkle yiddish alt pun stir Perry
Como crooning se yammo, a friendly ****
mum exchange (minus jet lag) oye vay,
boot how novel, if I could wit
ness (or personally experience) quick
lightening rod quips would come to me
rescue (supercalifragilisticexpialidocious),

but generally, honestly and indubitably,
this flustering rhymster, who with bluster
brownian movement attests and accepts
slow moving cogs and wheels of his
aging noggin normally, notoriously
and nominally NEVER nsync with
nearly top notch national scrabbling
Facebooked bountiful brigands, this
will never happen to utter trail blaze
zing, nail biting, and hair raising awe

some adage, badinage, and/or  persiflage
more likely than not, mum hindlacks
proper cerebral mechanism to dream,
and get linkedin exactly at  prime time.
An absolute beauty of a doozy, flapping
like a ******, hypothetically intimated be
totally tubularly groovy, man and find
me a bit woozy with flickr ring shutterfly
twittering wii zing hacking, joyous, and
kindling euphoria asthma sign us would

go thru roof of mouth boot opportunities
foregone to daydreaming after serious
lapse of time, yet speculatively, and in
sum re: prime tete a tete would spring up
to parry, defang, and blunt puncture of
mine  psyche (imaginatively zinging red
zinger, would be one for the record books),
sans right on cue, rapier jabbing (yet art
fully crafted), an unusually timely resip
rick cal sparring touché (leading com

petition, by my itty, bitty ditty), witty
award winning smart riposte would a
rise supremely after incidents arose from
circumstance, yet twin next opportunity
passes, the critical moment will slip,
away suspecting sanctimonious sham
rock leprachaun spiritedly skewered
lucky charms finding me wishing the
means existed to conjure an instant replay
all to often when recipient of unkind word,
taken aback sans ideal return synaptic salvo.
Michael Angelo Apr 2018
She slithered through my ribs,
Toungue out,
Looking for a heart.
I knew her intentions from the start.
To devour me is an ambitious task.
"Don't beat yourself up over it."
Is all I ask.
Because the games are fun.
My feelings have been numb
For years, but I can act better than Guy Pierce,
Our conversations were just a Memento-
Puzzles I could never get into.
Cold blood doesn't bother me,
Your cold touch is everything I knew it would be.
She coils, ready to strike,
And I laugh at the thought-
They are all alike.
That venemous kiss;
A generous bliss
Knowing I played my part well.
We're all snakes, but not everyone of us can tell.
AS- Feb 2022
As I write the pain eases
My chest becomes lighter
The constriction like venemous jaws
Circling like a Boa
Tightening
Until I flood the page with my hurt
And it escapes my heart
It's been a few years I've been like this
I miss being that carefree child
Some men don't go to therapy
This is my therapy
Thank you for visiting the shrine of my soul. Thank you for appreciating.
Chandy Aug 2022
The beat of battle
Rides like a horse, no saddle
Vibrations, a raddle
Up the back of a venemous tassle
simo Jul 2020
there is a visceral feeling somewhere in there
but it hides amongst the trees, leaves dripping
with green, stems are broken bonds, water used to flow in these veins,
but now they are fluent, transparent now, clear and immobile

toxins fall onto your skin, pesticides and poison
seeping in as to
make you stronger, eventually
despite the pain you feel

it hurts too hard to scream, so you are silent in this growth
through this sickening feeling in your bones
if she can make you stronger, if she says she must,
then well, its not like you’ve ever had anyone else to trust

she tears you raw, rips you barren but it is the only love you’ve ever known,
she says you can leave, it’s okay to be gone
but where else is there to to?

it’s all routine at some point
but i feels more wrong amongst the years
there is no breaking point, no period of knowing
just a crashing, a noticing of scraped bark.
a hallow feeling and empty branches
a blinding enlightenment amongst the darj

are you parched? starved?
have you noticed that there is rot where once was heart?
this venom has reached its end, and you are the strongest you could get
weak, fragile, weighed down
but stronger now
in awareness all around

and so she asks if you need water, offers you peace, family, vinegar
fix it now, you say or imagine, because you have become so utterly afraid of her
with dead leaves and less roots
she harvests you with a fiery hunger

but amongst the hunger,
these years of growth,
there is no produce in this lumber
this tree is seas and crass and venemous
so she throws you out,
without knowing she had caused this
written on feb 13 2018 at 1:28am

— The End —