The Keeper Of The Worms
In the realms of eyes
that burn like the
beams of headlights
mud-covered by
words, philosophies
that burrow like a worm
through sockets
and fog the brilliance
of tolerance.
It slowly creeps
slithering,
squirming
reaching
into your skull
killing hope like a parasite.
It eats away at the flesh,
rots to the very core;
resentment fills its gut
as it bulges with contempt.
Its hunger knows no bounds
its baseless resolve to devour;
what could be left is but a distortion
when perceptions are blurred
and opinions are turned-
flipped
like a coin.
And upon its depraved haunches
are talons that ransack,
sharp like a razorback
poisoned to the heel
and bound by leather straps.
It twists and writhes throughout-
grows within the core
like the worm within the apple.
Once bitten,
its poisoned corrosion
like an acid
that melts- globs of hatred postulate
and disintegrates the primary
function of forgiveness;
understanding-a relic,
outdated-
narcissistic pleasantries
self-absorbed, shadows
imbued with a burn with every touch
haunting those once armed
with teeth
kicked in
brought to their knees.
Helpless to its desire
No antidote for its venom
but a wayward journey to
the accepting of human goals
The inherent desires,
the power that lay within;
through curtains of shuttered eyes,
blackened by what they don’t know.
They continue to feed upon the weary
of those who know no less
than what they see
until it breeds like a cancer-
The antibiotic shot
injected through the chest cavity
will not be prescribed
before what’s left is abscessed-
for the worm that slithers
through the body,
through the mind it does as well.
It hardens the synapses
of common decency.
It narrows the view with
cataracts
clouding the vision
appropriately as it dines…
Do not feed them, The Keepers of the Worms
for when they starve
they cannot ascend from
the musical timber that
hangs on a
Lo
Lo
Lo
note.
Brainwashed bleach bottoms
soft as the caress of fluid verbosity
chanced a renovation
crawling through the slag,
of the barrels lining the shallows,
spritzed behind the ears like perfume,
its residue clinging to the pores
where the bacteria of hatred
form.
Copyright © 2014 J. V. Stanley
