To The One Who Chose Poison..

A deep vers liber, written as prose.

At times the poison I took rises from my throat where I have held it all these years and

reaches the top of my neck, turning me all blue inside, to the extent of its coming to my tongue, and I hold it, lest it reverts and spreads to the branches and streams and deserts and mountains and wipes off all the life on Earth…

My suffering lingers and hurts and kills, it takes turns like the whirlpools of the ocean churned, to the point I poise to give up the venom, but I would not let another man die while I live, nor my woes to end with his begin, even if the venom takes its toll on me alone…

At times I wonder if I am a monster or a poor saint, if all the evil fed to me has transcended me into evil too, just like a serpent whose only fault was birth in a pit of hell, no fault of his at all, or perhaps I too was born among the demons, a fiery species carried to the Earth in an angel’s wings…

Honeybadger I always was, got up again each time I was lethally bit, fought too many duels and slain a million serpents, but never knew the serpent who lives forever in the human flesh, feeding on the ego and vanity, is another enemy, and I find an arduous fight at two formidable fronts…

I live each day by the dusk and death claims me by the dawn, at each twilight new reincarnation comes, an epoch ends the new begins, my frail legs lose their gait, with a faint ray of light my sore eyes gleam. At the precipice of moving on to the other plain, I close my eyes and stitch my neck…

At times the poison I took rises from my throat where I have held it all these years and

reaches the top of my neck, turning me all blue inside, to the extent of its coming to my tongue, and I hold it, lest it reverts and spreads to the branches and streams and deserts and mountains and wipes off all the life on Earth…

My suffering lingers and hurts and kills, it takes turns like the whirlpools of the ocean churned, to the point I poise to give up the venom, but I would not let another man die while I live, nor my woes to end with his begin, even if the venom takes its toll on me alone…

At times I wonder if I am a monster or a poor saint, if all the evil fed to me has transcended me into evil too, just like a serpent whose only fault was birth in a pit of hell, no fault of his at all, or perhaps I too was born among the demons, a fiery species carried to the Earth in an angel’s wings…

Honeybadger I always was, got up at each lethal bit, fought too many duels and slain a million serpents, but never knew the serpent who lives forever in the human flesh, feeding on the ego and vanity, is another enemy, and I find an arduous fight at two formidable fronts…

I live each day by the dusk and death claims me by the dawn, at each twilight new reincarnation comes, an epoch ends the new begins, my frail legs lose their gait, with a faint ray of light my sore eyes gleam. At the precipice of moving on to the other plain, I close my eyes and stitch my neck…