Oh my
What a mistake I’ve made
I run and hide for cover
To shield me
From your venom
But to the illusory mind, even a stick can appear to be a serpent
Cowering with shame I await for you to strike
In anticipation I psych myself out and start exhibiting symptoms that were never there
How could your poison become mine
How could I inject myself with the venom that was never there?
The idea of administering small amounts to create an antidote sounds sound
But in this case I’m achieving the opposite effect
Distributing large amounts into my system, I become sickened
And that sickness spreads to others
Whether willingly or not
Who has the antidote?
Where I thought I was of no use before, I really am of no use to anyone, anymore.
Artistic Apathy 