Poison of Choice – a poem

Tides from a star tyrannical pour

From skies otherwise bare sanguine,

A crude colour mostly buried under

Tones darker than real, or pale

As the viper’s belly, poison dripping;

Ready the glass.


Choose what evils you wish for

Or such tendencies curtail tidily

With ramparts of fine barometrically

Tested mind-matter, the soul a somnambulant’

Silent witness, bearer to this;

What we wish.


Vertical, super helical light spins

In formations foreign and diabolical,

The pour of abyssal plains weight

In such light sunbeams dash

The little fears of many decades

Brewed on dank ocean beds, such as

We oft overlook.


Those gestating virii dream in abysses

Darker than black mayst suggest or

Those living in the heady light may

Wot of, visions without tincture formed

From the viper venom kept in glasses

Sheltered from light.


Drink up, and let more than we know

Fill these rusted veins, tired relics that

Call post-poison shuddering paroxysm,

Amidst lacerations before the necessary balm,

The bitter become death stench heavy;

By far untenable.


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