Slither into my mind,

And tell me your deepest poison...

Your teeth pierce my skin...

I guess the demons have chosen...

Me

Let's tango with the tenacity...

Acolytes don't even have the audacity.

To allow a flow of this soothing sagacity...

And capture it to pass it to me...

But do I want it?

My choices end up sinking like quicksand

Royalty is so bland.

Jagged knives stuck in my hand.

Drip.

My soul slowly melting away.

All because you snakes won't politely fade away.

You present to thee in different forms,

Blessings smoked in the name of the scorned,

And I'm torn by the pieces.

Stuck like the leeches.

Appearing in my garden...

As I find myself picking your peaches...

Bittersweet to the touch

I told the heavens that...

"I don't ask for much"