He's Back
My insides are tight, they’re slimy and black
He’s back.
The anaconda.
He squeezes my insides and I can’t breathe,
He won’t leave.
I can’t sleep, or I’ll dream of his body
While he roams my gut, up to my lungs,
Grabbing my ribs and swinging from the rungs
And then squeezes around my throat
Takes time to gloat
Before he hisses words into my head…
Words that can render me dead.
He lingers, he slithers, he kills..
He’s back;
And no one’s there to hear my shrills.
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