
Over my lips run
sweet spots, thirsting.
Murmurs release
disappear at my touch
head tipped, drains
the pulse of blood
warm, red
ear still pressing
listens;
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 beneath.
Truth is:
Fraudulent conduct
infection manifest
into the body
the profit worm turns
sub-human, generating
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
*originally published April, 2021
If you kill the goose that lays the golden eggs, you cannot get more golden eggs
~