he dipped my tongue in poison

that’s the catch, my little pumpkin spice
you got pumped full of exactly equal parts
naughty and nice and now
your shadow’s grin gleams like lightning
and you lay awake at night
with suicide, the end, your friend,
creeping up your shoulder
and that angel on the other side
using his paintbrush to show the justice
of injustice, the beauty in pain,
and all you can do is
drown under the weight of it all.

the tree of knowledge and the fruit
are dead.
i am the serpent
who only wished
for an interesting end.