The Daft, Demented, and Delirious

The venom flows; too easily you bite. I bite back. Quick little serpents we are. Rattling and posturing, standing our ground. Each one of us too proud to back down. Hisses are all that's heard, no friendly words. After all angry, scared, reptiles don't speak they strike: Hard and fast, leaving behind poison, infection, and soon death will set in. There is no antidote. Dying is the easy part. The hissing has stopped. The warning rattles have ceased. The stinging is gone from the wounds. The poison stills the breath, then the heart. Relief. Peace. The mind is at last quiet.

Life rhythm: I ebb , I flow Windows are closed and I can't find the door. Bouncing like a dropped rubber ball ricocheting against every wall. Over and over I come and I go Never finding that place to call home. It burns and I harden like lava to rock Ticking and chiming I run like a clock. Running and running but staying in place Holding back my words trying to save face. Tears replace anger and make it all worse I don't cry because I'm weak I cry because it hurts.