Poison

Deformed bones

molding to your teeth

Gnaw, gnaw, gnaw.

Marrow stained gums

I will kill you even after death,

when my bones turn to poison

and slowly suffocate you.

I’ll pour down your throat,

tearing it apart as I go.

The next breath you take will be tortured

slow, raspy . . . dead.

I will eat away your stomach lining,

so anything you drink to soothe the pain

will only make it burn that much more.

Infiltrate your liver, your kidneys

and from there

you die.

Still living on after you die.

After I die.

Your body will melt into the earth,

where I’ll infiltrate into its depths.

I am an incurable poison.

Speak no evil

Blood lashings enfold the crevices of my mind
Your tongue makes a mighty fine whip

Delicately structure
Exquisitely designed
so smooth…so perfect…like a newborn.
Mouths collide, as two worlds often do
The stars unleashing their intoxicating gasses.
How could two people do this to each other?

Ahh but who would know,
if we never told.

Labeling a demon only makes it a demon with a name

People categorize me as a runner.
But they don’t know what I’m running from.

People say they only run if someone is chasing them.
That they can never find the motivation,
unless life reaches out and bitch-slaps it across their foreheads.

Going down the road on my two feet,
watching the faces of my fellow runners.
What are they running from?

Demons, and more demons.
Haunting. Teasing. Taunting.
They can be fun too.

Is there anyone who doesn’t admit to having at least one?
Does labeling a demon make it go away?

Ask the next person you see running down the road,
ask them what they’re running from.
They’ll laugh at you, murmur something about enjoying the run
but that’s bullshit.

They’ll run off smiling,
later the forehead bitchslapping will come.

So what am I running from?