Asps
In every quarter-hour crisis
The blood infused retch stains carpet
Oh be still my faithless heart
Please be still.
But I will not say peace.
Not to each passing wave of nausea
Each directed search of pain
Each reverberating weakness
Please be still, I ask you
But I issue no commands.
I offer forth no trust
Neither animosity nor kinship
Darken bile-cracked lips
Consider me a moment to be chosen
But neutral on the both sides
Until the future of forestry is revealed
As ink-stained obscenitied hands
With cyanide tears.
Or should I say all trees become paper
Covered in worthless words
And the cries of our venomous fears.
Consider my scars, measure my doubts
Carefully weigh this poverty
Yes, consider me well
Else, consider me poison.
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