THE PERFECT ANTIDOTE

By Midwest Fantasy And Charles Robert Lindholm

He Flows
Through My Veins
Like A Poison
From The Love Bite
He Administered To My Heart

THE POISON

At first

it tasted bitter.

Rancid.

I choked

unable to chew,

disgusted

unable to spit

owing to pride,

Lark Song

 

The air is magnetic
And enigmatic
Light pulses and throbs
Through the trembling sky
Black as night
Black as the black venom
Running through your veins

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Poison Veins

Can’t find the stinger;

it drowns in drips and dribbles

of raining oceans

pooling on sun-tanned beaches:

perhaps it was never there.