The Fruit – Tasting the loneliness

“I can’t face losin’ ya, Riley. Yer all I got left in this world.”
That brutal honesty again. He’d peeled away more armor, and this time he’d exposed his heart.” ― Jana Oliver,
Forbidden

Words from a great author and friend, I thought you, my intelligent readers, would enjoy this:


I found this fruit.

I ate from it.

It was the most beautiful thing,

To be taken in small bites,

Taste in moderation,

Because a flavor so strong could destroy you quickly.

It was so beautiful, I couldn’t keep it to myself,

I had to share.

So I found you,

and we shared it.

But then..

You stopped picking it.

And I was the one left to muster a lonesome bite.

-R.S.L.S

11282011
 

The Snake – There is someone out there as dangerous as you

“Never assume that the person you are dealing with is weaker or less important than you are. Some people are slow to take offense, which may make you misjudge the thickness of their skin, and fail to worry about insulting them. But should you offend their honor and their pride, they will overwhelm you with a violence that seems sudden and extreme given their slowness to anger.” Robert Greene, 48 Laws of Power
 

“What gets me is the laughter. Laughing, mocking, putting me to shame. Be careful to never shame others, there is someone out there just like you, like me, waiting in the shadows for the final stroke, the lash that brings to light the hidden madness. Be careful young soul that you do not mock the snake.”

I coil around these young, nurturing their venomous beginnings. Ever aware, hyper-vigilant, to protect and bring to maturation these slithering things. Theyve become my children. In them I invest my time and energy, daily laboring, thinking about their growth and how they will manifest in this humbled time. My nest, being formed in the moist and dark, is where they grow, and where the stench festers inciting more depravity from the natural courses that flow so easily. The rubbish of shame and hate piled on my fertile ground, gives rise to a perfect incubator for my brood. Throw another log on you spoiled soul, forget not that under your insults, warmth and protection brought about by numb insulation, cords piled high, will let my life swarm. Not one bite will injure you, but many, not from one direction, but from several. You gave me advantage by leaving the dark crevices where I crawl and my thirst for poisoned blood grows. I can prosper in obscurity, in the loneliness you force on me with your betrayals and mocking laughter. Night has come, I find myself drawn from the pile. You forget that life grows dark even in your world and there is where I prosper, having grown accustomed to the dimness in your dungeon. Feel your skin crawl as sounds of my approach come near. I taste your fear with my carefully timed flicks of tongue. I feel your vibrations, you can’t run. Where will you go? Naturally you will find a dark place, a hole to run to. There I will catch you, and the dull red of your hatred of my life will flow thickly into my long furnace. Here the heat will consume you, and I will crawl, satiated with revenge, leaving the bones and fur of your carcass as testimony to the lethality of leaving your shamed captives alive.


Arachnia – Many ways, many hands, many deaths

“There are spiders whose bite can cause the place bitten to rot and to die, sometimes more than a year after it was bitten. As to why spiders do this, the answer is simple. It’s because spiders think this is funny, and they don’t want you ever to forget them.”
  – Neil Gaiman, Anansi Boys 

 

Brushing lightly against you, a breeze carrying your seeds


Alighting on me, travail of my soul just to begin

Fire burns the course of nature through my primal veins

Caught now by the spider silk of your trouble

I feel the pull of your bite sinking my soul into rapture

Your many hands finding their way, using my body

Your many eyes seeing everywhere I hide

My escape now wound in your lair, wander lust begins

In circles you lead me, my mind numb with senses raging

One escape grabs my fainting sight, away from you I fly

Also published in Broowaha 
01192012

Curved Intentions – Becoming your feast

“Do not imagine that the good you intend will balance the evil you perform” 
Kitsune
Curved intentions, raking my back, I’m caught

Tearing my skin I pull away taught

Faithful I lay awake in pretend

Hoping quickly my life will end

Hungry breath and obsessed eyes

Biting through my gentleness you despise

Quivering, shaking the cold of afterlife

My soul separated by desire’s knife