The sad sick truth, the reality of it all,
is the greatest poison of them all, I have self-administered.
The venomous memory left behind,
in every thought that I fail to bind,
to the promise that I would ignore, our past and move forward.
Do not, let ego drive you, we know you drive ego;
whereas you drove mine right into the darkest of pits.
There in the darkness, I lay down with the serpents,
stretch out my arms and wait for their deep insertion,
venom filled memories of my greatest dreams,
poured into my veins, by my own choices.
In hopes of immunity I choose to be bitten over and over,
my mind races into the void of our touch, our words, the picture of our your fingers intertwined with mine that rests so vividly inside of my head.
The only cure, the antivenom if you will, is to stop subjecting myself to them, to seal off our moments, frozen in time and simply let go.
I know, that no matter how many times they bite, I will never become immune.
Instead will only suffer though my addiction in hopes of moments, of illusion and ecstasy that is only delivered by my own imagination that you are not, the basilisk that you are.