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