I am the witch maker.

I used to sleep with the enemy.

Now I sleep with a machete’.

The beaded snake that you gave me,

with the coconut cross,

the one for wearing around my neck like a dog,

slithers around the ground under the sheets at the foot of my bed.

like the dragon in my chest,

he comes up from my gut and looks from behind my eyes,

he breathes as I breathe,

his scales inhale and scrape against my insides,

yet I carry him, this rusty worm.

You are now a witch, I saw your empty form,

your eyes hollow of light,

your smile a deadly aiming device.

You rode me to your pleasure,

screaming above me in the night.

I caught you and now I release you.

I am the poison taster.


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