Spit

When overtaken
With Achillean Fury™
I spit like a Zulu-Viper
Viscous humours
Expressed in sinewy saliva,
Heavy-laden with poetic cypher.
My throat opens wide,
Like ophidian eyes,
Ovoid and cruel
Lifted on sulfur fumes,
And peacock plumes
Like the stench of Eden.

If that pre-Roman Rome
Had been lined with tombstones
From the death of apple-season:
“Here lies the apple core,
Left by the cruel curiosity
Of some silly omnivores,
Who made quick work
Of establishing Abrahamic Lore.”
Quoth the granite tablets
that predate
Their covenant-laced cousins
Of the Exodus Era.

Wrath consumes all men,
Like a serpent eats the sparrow.