Firstargot

There were two snakes and they were intertwined,

One biting at the neck of the other with the tails twisted downwards.

The lesser subsumes the greater, at least, so I believed.

But then I brought myself back to wakefulness and the scales faded.

But the snakes unwound and burrowed in to stay.

The wind outside blows warm in frigid places,

stirring up the cobwebs of the dream-fugue heavy in me

and the sunlight sparkles onto the dusty bedsheets

and I blink and groan as it dances across my face and sears 

that bloody-minded tyrant from the inside of my retinas.

There was nothing in my hands but the cobwebs blown outward

through the stain-glassed windows of my eyes with strains alighting on my soul.

Some to be brushed away by further introspection.

Others will remain and take some form of permanent residence

upon the red-stained places that I allow myself to cultivate. 

But with wakefulness fades the true and torturous insights

that so roughly blasted from my mind with the rising sun.

There's a thousand mundane mercies baying like bloodhunts for my attention.

So I allow myself to be subsumed by the miniature of the scenario,

There is no time left for introspection.

One day they may flower and feed upon the fertile places I allow.

Watered by rage and allowed to grow stronger by inattention.

There's always the possibility that this is all an insight in and of itself.

I fear the dawning of the sun that pulls forth this through my true eyes

and burns the recollection of all of this away.