Hive Mind

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


each loud noise inaudible.

Not even a breath spills. 

Fingers on my throat

desire for me to choke

false life or real death


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

*originally published April, 2021

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