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Writer's pictureSebastien Clermont

The Serpent

He said, "I killed the beast, that part of me is dead"

And I laughed and yanked his stomach out of his mouth

I pulled him around town like a voodoo zombie

As an old serpent I could live in his brain with ease

He thought his acts absurd, he didn't know it was me

Not a beast he could kill but an integral part of his being

Firmly lodged in the cortex, wrapped around a thousand times

He thought he was an addict, but he was a slave to an ancient god

He prayed to me through his salivary glands

Atop a mountain of garbage, feasting on the sacrament

Subverting his own digestion, betraying his organs

Of course this would fill his body with wounds, his mind with mold

Poor child trying to heal himself in vain, for years on end

"The maze has no exit, my love

Not only am I inside you but you're inside me"

He felt his way blindly in the pitch blackness of my innards

A closed system of tubes and pipes

I've been twisted and turned around this cosmos since it appeared

He ran into one last false exit and shattered his face

And swallowed his teeth before sitting in a puddle of his own acid

The last trick I pulled on him was to make him love the dark

He was the best servant and he would never understand why


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