I am violence, and I live in you.
I am the howl that begins the hunt
as the breeze kicks up the autumn leaves
and a sliver of moon nests in the darkened sky
amid thunderclouds and electric lights.
In the unforgiving shadows I slither out,
nothing more than a ghostly glint of scales
and the cutting sear of poison in your veins.
You’ll cry out, but I’ll have your tongue around my neck.
Better luck next time.
I am the whisper from the mist telling you to jump
as the sea-salt wind knots its fingers in your hair.
Beyond the fog, where you can’t see,
I’m holding your bleating heart in my hands.