Taste of Blight

It touches first, a breath of dust
a bitter kiss on air
a taste that sinks beneath the skin  
and lingers, unaware

The Blight, it moves with purpose slow
a poison bred in dark
it spreads like ink in veins of earth
a stain without a mark

It tastes of ash, of copper blood
of iron ground to rust
a weight that presses on the tongue  
and turns all things to dust

It grows, it knows—beneath the taste
there’s something worse within
A hunger, vast and sentient
with rot beneath its grin

It whispers through the blackened soil
it seeps into the roots
the taste of Blight is ancient breath
the grave of fallen fruits

It gnaws the bark, it sours the flesh
it twists the sweetest wine
It turns the earth’s last gasp of life  
to something serpentine

And yet, it knows, the Blight can wait
for time is its domain
a patient, creeping malevolence  
that wears the world like chain

You swallow it, you feel it crawl  
inside your deepest core
It isn't hunger that it feeds
but something darker—more

It pulses, hums, a thing alive
its presence sharp, aware
The Blight’s no simple stain or curse
but thought that prowls the air

It tastes of endings, slow decay
of ruin turned to song
A taste that stays upon the lips
forever, ever wrong

It smiles beneath your senses now
a whisper, soft and clear
The Blight has seen, it waits, it breathes
and knows you’re always near