Crawling out of the woodwork like a termite,
his toxicity, like tentacles slither out, poison
to the sweet sapling that must be moistened,
protected only by the tamarin and her vicious bite.
Damaged walls
let the poisoned gases in,
inhabitant
unsuspecting of incoming damage
or even the
glaring lack of proper bandage
over wounds
never healed; they easily reopen.
Small, innocent
soul, unknowingly tortured by
the confusion
and disruption: betrayed by him,
a most trusted
companion she held above all sin,
in the highest
esteem; surely, he was unable to lie.
Confusion and
chaos abound in her mind,
put to rest
only by motherly affection and love,
protected,
held close within Mama’s glove,
so, to the
demonic manipulation, she is blind.
Discomfort seeps in, touching everyone with infection;
social constructs do the best to make it squirm.
One can find comparison to it with the worm,
an apt comparison in terms of lacking verbal
inflection.
It’s enabled
and encouraged by a female so vile,
her vitriol,
never-ending, just sprays and spews
to those she
cannot control with her narrow views
and
manipulation tactics that only provoke bile.
Nausea,
rocking, churning, bubbling like a hot sea,
a physical
response to psychological stress
unnecessarily
exacerbated in times of distress,
appetites turned
as sour as a lost, forgotten pea.
I knew what it
was when I laid eyes on it at first,
a hideous,
disgusting energy, vile as vomit,
disguising
itself with the success of a large comet
shooting
through a night only described as the worst.
As I watched, the shape transformed, a mask
seeping over the visage I’d glimpsed but quickly;
my soul knew the evil as I do now as its sickly
energy could be drunk like liquid from a flask.
But then I allowed it to slip on its mask before
I knew what was even happening before my eyes.
He gave meaning to the phrase, “time flies,”
and I became lost within its darkness, craving more.
