Schizoid Serpent
The serpent is sliced up into four pieces, placed on the pricks of the pitchfork and swarming for the next life. Four more lives will come out of it alive, they will all hiss and slither in a different language with no intonations. English, French, Latin, and Italian like Nato is having one of those marching military parades. Drying on the trident like some sun dried cherries, pears, and walnuts. They brittles off the trident as the new life is set to start, the skin peels off in two parts. Solar powered like the Mayans’ god and similar to a newborn, the new brass colored limbs are still delicate. Their instrument of choice is the mouthpiece within the larger scaled face in the embouchure position and the protective sheath, inverted ivory horn is hidden beneath. Silent like a monk but weapons are still kept out in the room, just out of sight. Off to the swings of the winds with no time to say thanks for the renaissance, separately went the four serpents with the hopes for surpassing three ten year reunions. Alone they grow, small talk when passing by but no withdrawal when socializing goes to a standstill. The ancestors surpassed the crossed one both ways, no generational wealth but the limbs left behind was the foresight of the changing times that hinted at wars that involved crawling through trenches and civilians digging deeper to crusts of Earth for safety. Long-term unemployment, poverty, and homelessness is what the serpent sifts through like satan getting after the remains of Bourbon Street. Even the knights at night do octaves of starch so they could provide dual expression to both sides of the spectators. Souls sold down by the crossroads but the snake values none of it, only the bones it digests. It’ll let you have the furs, the feathers, and leathers but these are just pellets to the standards of the Serpent. The human mammals go on a stroll with zoomorphism on the brain but if the slithering one did the same, it might be Samael at blame. Assume that the scaled one talks with a lisp, unnoticed goes the reptile catching a whiff with its tongue. The primates see the foreign one, the phobias and a scent trail of death has begun. Mounted on its coil, the serpent knows that his philly shell guard stance can only take it as far as he knows. In the presence of a lion, it is still a lyon and the counter bite is the liver shot. The misunderstood does not have problems with its genetics, you can keep the coupons for the rehabilitations and counclings. Keep the sad sounds of the tuba to yourself, this food won’t hunt itself. The saying “you have snakes in your head” couldn’t be anymore faulted to the disorganized thinkers, gummy snake candy was the reference. Climbing, swimming, and dug deep in a burrow is the serpent’s thinking besides hunting. Serpent’s skin is like carbon fiber, the outsiders attempt to mimic it with a cheapen effect and it alters the perspective. Mr poacher man wants to scalp the serpent like a tribesman, insisting in a voluntary hospitalization. It’s not psychotic, eat the pills mental mister because it’s making you psychotic. The serpent is not here to fulfill the sexual desires that you have heard of in delusions, you go finger yourself with each hand in the burrow like a cornett elsewhere. The evolved tools don’t scare the serpent, understanding the bore and how to wrap around the trigger. A conical collar for the mister poacher man so he can’t lick his leg wounds, the rifle left leaning next to tree cost a fee. Three limbs away from joining said Serpent, sweeping the floor with your teeth. That’s no schizoid serpent, the hallucinations happened prior and the bite is what expires.