Morning

Morning strikes; she is a viper
digging her fangs deep into my veins
and poisoning my breath and paralyzing me.
I pray silently for her release,
As the toxins fill my body and drool escapes my lips.
Subdued, with no strength to shake her,
She strikes continually as I bleed
on my bed, clutching my wound
for no other reason than the consoling contact.
She does not care, she digs deeper
as my eyes roll to the back of my head.
The heat boils my blood, a warm sensation,
both welcoming and nauseating.  I am dizzy
in pain, she pulls me to my feet, latched on
and becoming absorbed into my skin.

Morning clasps; she is a viper
unaware of time, unlike me
worried as each minute, tick-tock, slowly passes,
She swims through the lava pumping through my heart.
A loud buzz rings and my mind pounds,
the familiar pain that is no more welcoming than yesterday.
She slithers slower each second, tick-tock,
numbing every organ she entangles,
my breath shortening with tighter lungs,
and intestines growing with discontent and bile.
She weakens but never unhinges her jaw
from the power she possesses, majestic queen,
coiled on her throne of pinks and yellows,
rising her head to infuse her bitter saliva
and sheds to abandon her carcass in my rotting flesh.

Morning rests; she is a viper
finished poisoning her victim and patient,
allowing the plan to consummate with time.
Her grin, larger than the Cheshire cat, is met
with mine, opposing her happiness with illness.
I cannot sit, my jitters have awoken me
and my eyes prop open from her dry skinned touch
frightening my senses into alertness.
She is calm, atop her kingdom that once was mine
and the cushioned mattress beneath me no longer.
I quiver, frantically searching for strength in darkness
that hides in the corner of the closet but she follows,
she is one with me, she is the light that brings death,
a viper poisoning the vitality that is itching
to drip on the carpeted floor.

He kisses me; he is the antidote
for the fiery anguish inflicted by the serpent.
He settles my senses so I can walk, and yet I stay in his arms,
with his kiss to evaporate the venom within my veins
and smile to revitalize my heart with beats once more.
He, the royal king, sits beside her on her throne,
as I am in awe of his strength, his beauty,
his splendor, his courage. His touch soothes
the scorched skin of my arms and face,
and covers me with a blanket of protection.
He rushes through me, the hero of my dreams,
rebuilding my weakness and destruction
without reason beyond the kindness of his heart
and the morning, viper of death,
she never can reach me with my antidote