snakes of my being

Wondering eyes-

Marbles taking on

my soul’s curiously,

my heart’s mistrust,

my mind’s longing.

I try to keep them in their place-

I try to keep them in their caverns,

but they long for the light

just outside its reach.

They awake my body

whispering words of deceit,

“This will make you feel whole”.

My flesh and bones sway

in consent to their siren tune-

dancing toward what isn’t theirs.

 

I hear my core crumbling-

like bones being broken-

all within moments,

section by section,

inch by inch.

Like nails on a chalk board,

silent screams imprint within me.

Like walks through the garden,

ancient and  unassuming,

new found truth casts me aside   

to a desert, unyielding. 

My eyes,

snakes of my being,

damned eager, swaying flesh. 

Now, there is no dancing.

PoetryEmily Pickerd