Serpent instinct,
The silver-tongued rouge,
The fork-tongued devil.
The burned wait,
Lithely coiled
Waiting for the strike.
But it is not the snake,
That is the one to strike.
It is the mongoose from behind.
The one awaiting the kill
Is the one to suffer,
The one whom is revenged upon.
Watch the double-sided blade,
Swing with care,
This snake of steel bites back.
Run with scissors,
Stick foil in sockets,
Stab with ball point pens.
Keys and coins,
Ties and tries,
Knuckles and blood.
Ring, call.
I need to talk,
I need to be.
To be loved is a precious thing,
To love is fickle,
To hate, is to live.
War cries,
Tears of blood,
Foolish one.
Insatiable lust for pain,
Relentless taste for blood.
If angels exist,
Then they are rare,
And the Devils dominate.
Righter than rain,
More frail than a flower,
Rage is fickle.
Tickle it,
Tease it,
Lose yourself in it.