Hive Mind


Over my lips run

sweet spots thirsting

murmurs release

disappear at my touch

head tipped drains

the pulse of blood

warm and red

ear still pressing

listening.

Each loud noise inaudible.

Not even a breath spills. 

Fingers on my throat

desire for me to choke

false life or real death

choose.

Do not lift the slimy veneer.

Do not search underneath.

Truth is: Fraudulent conduct

infection manifest

into the body 

the profit worm turns

sub-human, generated

trickery its key

spend, renew, grow;

but a good parasite does not

kill its host, so…

what was I talking about again?

~

Copyright © Kelly Huntson and kellyhuntson.com

“… no one of intelligence resents the inevitable.”
—Arthur C. Clarke


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