of anger, held my heart in hand
a tick-tock longer?
Wishful thinking leaks seductively
from your mouth like noxious
gas, its blue smoky tendrils
slither towards my tentative nostrils.
A viper in the Garden of Eden can't
make a meal of mangoes, but
certainly of man.
Who are you? Exchanging this
poetic promise over and over
like quarters and dimes;
you must be a drug dealer.
Corner of Heaven and Hell,
you always keep em coming
back, but not me.
Therein lies the enchantment
-ensnaring like a fish hooked tongue-
enamored with my Houdini hoodwinks.
I won't be coming back 'round here
for a long, long second.
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