Venom.

The rhythm starts to fade.
Slowly all hearing becomes one continuous, high-pitched line. 
Sight starts to blur and saliva turns into bitter agony.
Small convulsions drain what little energy that is left.

The soft beating stops.
The last heave of air turns to hot cinders,
It leaves the hunger behind.
A craving that cannot be fulfilled.
Conscious only to the starving mind.
Pain jolts through a numb body.









Few things happen before the black consumes.
One soft whisper of thoughts left undiscovered in a familiar voice.
A realization,
Disbelief,
Doubt,
Truth,
Regret,
Then nothing.

'All the venom you gave to me, has now been returned.'

Author's Note

I started to re-think the way I write poems and this is what I ended up with.

Reviews

[Honourfish]

You paint a vivid picture! excellently written, and a great read.