Snakes in my bed
and you're in my head again.
And when you come around
sliding up my spine-
I feel the poison sink in.
A sickened kiss.
You said this wouldn't hurt a bit.
Don't tell me
it's not likely of you.
Don't say
it's not something you could purposely do.
Your mouth so black
and I feel your tongue on my back-
Coiled with lies,
they're growing- reaching- pricking;
dying for a taste.
Lick my insides
and see that it's rotten fruit.
But it still bleeds;
still spreads disease.
And I can tell you
it's not likely of me.
And I can say
It's not something I could purposely do.
Snakes in my head
and you're in my bed again.
And when you come around
tracing fingers down my spine-
I feel the venom set in.
A swollen kiss.
You promised this wouldn't hurt a bit.