Cauldron Bubbles

The cauldron bubbles
With blackest of black
Boiling over the rim 
Thick and tar-like liquid
As putrid fumes fill the air
It gags you, chokes you
Making you wonder
What is IN that
And you look around to find
A rotted, termite infested shelf
Coated with years of dust
Webs spun by spiders long gone
One jar is labeled: Serpent tongues
Cunning and slithering
With lies, deceit, lashing words
Next to it sits a tin canister
Curiosity gets the best of you
So you pull off the lid to find
Bulging, gluttonous leeches
Eager to suck out the life
To drain you dry until discarded
Until you are no longer any use
A wooden box sits waiting
The lid creaks open revealing
Black, shriveled, petrified hearts
Formed by spite and hatred
Rattling inside a can 
Are enormous troll teeth
Rotten and black from years
Of ripping and gnawing of flesh
In a sack there seems to be marbles
But inside you find owl eyes
Harden from all the scrutiny
All the harsh, critical glares
Stunned, it hits you and you realize
These are boiling in the cauldron
What makes up the blackness, the smell
And on a gnarled table
Scarred and weathered 
From years of hosting
Is a bowl waiting to be filled
For the brim to touch my lips
And the thick liquid to trickle
Down the back of my throat
Invading my body
To spread throughout
Wreaking havoc and devouring 
Everything it touches
Until I am the blackness
Until I am the host
Of this vicious venom 
To spread the infectious disease
Fear of this driving me
I grab the large pot
Searing the flesh of my palms
And push with everything in me
Until it topples over
Spilling out onto the floorboards
Seeping into the cracks
To never fill another bowl
To never be consumed
To never inhabit another
To never take over me

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