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!
~
Kelly Huntson 