From Genie to Gypsy

I wish wishing was as simple and certain as stargazing and leaving eraser shavings in the sheets

But I only have so many wishes left that hang loosely from my teeth 

Drip drip dripping like venom from a fang

Ill-wishes on the well-wishers, every kind of wish or curse

Dripping like maledictions that taste sweeter on the tongue than seen with your eyes 

Words that have the power to create or destroy or do anything in between

Words that start off as ideas, that are seeded quickly, sewn quietly between

The common fabric of thought and good intentions

Feeding on the anger that's let slip between the cracks

Ideas like nets catching all the unnamed burdens and fights that were never picked, only to sling them back again

To haunt and torture and decay

To let thoughts and bodies de-evolve by millions of years

Primal resentment

Author's Note

Short and not-so-sweet. I was thinking of adding to this, but I wasn't quite sure.