Basilisk [Pantheon, part II]

Basilisk [Pantheon, part II]

Slinking on its belly,
the basilisk, it crawls;
fibs such forked tongues, tell me,
a gaze which holds such thralls

Lost in crease and coil,
with scales greased, they lie;
selling off its oil,
for one and all to buy

Shrouded in tight spaces,
in dens, austere, cold;
with high life in low places,
hidden in the folds

Slithering through lives of grime,
with stocks and shares at stake;
selling off their souls in time,
like oil from a snake

Snake oil sold by charlatans,
to trickle through the veins;
A venom coarse, runs partisan,
flows eager down the chains

A trickle down, imagined strong,
despite an air filled drip;
a leader's empty vessel's song,
sounds hollow, still they trip

Stumble, high on heated air,
from wind bags blowing south;
speaking out their rectums where,
it should be from their mouth

A mouth with sprung fangs, tensioned, strained,
dislocated truths;
jaws that tighten, prey is drained,
as siphoned thoughts are soothed

A draining of the soul and heart,
a pillaging of loot;
still, the venom plays its part,
with victims dull and mute

Slowed in speed and numbed of nerve,
as coils tighten, close;
sprung fangs drip, syringes serve,
their purpose in the close

The closing of such freedoms, lost,
as coils lock and writhe;
a cry, too late, we see the cost,
the swinging of the scythe

A tail veiled in the grass,
a forked tounge, twisted, sings
In a nest, a vipers class
... the basilisk is king