scorpio moon: squirming snakes in my throat stir before my own mind

they want to beat themselves against the pouring rain

someone put them here: whose snakes are these? 

cuspids make the pickle explode in my mouth: salt

it is the head of a snake biting from between my jaws! 

I am a dehydrated liver slumped at an office chair 

gaping eyes deep in my purple face

information passing through, wet unlit tunnels by the lake,

from the computer into the net of my belly flesh: exorcism

empaths are water filters that go home at night

shame on you

for seeing me, my rage turned inward

you created the story of you are never pleased enough

I am a liver, not a doormat

more ripe, less traction, key differences 

we discuss how we are a pair of open hearts:

I feel most actualized when witnessed by a comrade open heart

poisoned when I am seen for my open heart

by one that needs to transform rage outward

charcoal massages into my pores

when my open heart becomes a den for a foreign pain

to rinse the liver drink lemon, bathe in beets 

scrub your temples with something green

until it squirms out: a projection, a ghost 

my shadow is dark as scorpio's pouring night 

but it is not the shape of a snake