Over my lips run raw spots thirsting.

Murmurs release, disappear at my touch

head tipped, drains the pulse of blood

warm, 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 look beneath.

Truth is: Fraudulent conduct

infection manifest

into the body the profit worm turns

sub-human, replicating, trickery its key

shift—renew—grow

but a good parasite does not kill its host, so…

what was I talking about again?

~

Copyright © Kelly Huntson and kellyhuntson.com

*originally published April, 2021

If you kill the goose that lays the golden eggs, you cannot get more golden eggs!

~