Lurking (a poem)

Snakes lurk in fog,
slither in early-morning venom,
we’re obscure beasts,
unfit for mortal society;
we’re traitorous,
vapor leaks from depths,
covers fields of blurred symbols

we’ll never reach promised lands,
they do not exist;
the messiah who promised them
was a fraud, a death-dealer
covered in scabs

visibility is low,
we go slow – crawl
for the misfits we’ve known;
tell them not to come for us,
we have better plans
to end this folly
with our own hands.

(Photo by Dimitar Donovski on Unsplash)


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