Hiss True Jeans...

Hiss is.
The Talon in my left side,
Holding tight to my right brain.
He is the split mind, he is withering...
Slithering through ourglass,
Tipping it back and forth, snickering.
Up then down, then inside out.
Shifting and shaping, my insecure.
Telling the world of his poison, fangs secured.
Snake is a shifter Hiss Talons, free talent.
Creative dexterity, teasing prosperity.
Hiss is the Cold Slap.
Two dreams of access, promised to child.
Hiss told in nightmares, years gone by,
Eve you will never have your Adam!
Rising again to the quiet screams.
He pushed all victims down.
He is the snake in the veins, of injections.
Addictions, rightful lair...
Snaring the minds of use, youth from Breast.
Mother's hidden child seed, of blood.
Princes of True Jean, left to death.
While the morphed and sick, continue on.
He is a seizure, and length of pain.
Miles.
Hiss mocks me for you.
Hiss tangled the lines of love, to divide.
Fear blantant resides...
The enemy not, I am?
Who closed your eyes?
Separated by Hiss plan, open sworn mind eyes.
Fight!!!
Taking on right side Talon match...
Quiver the arrow, and pull back the bow.
For of true heritage, we will reap what we sow.
So don't let Hiss win so easy, the darkness world...
In oblivion you are traipsing, unsecured enemy line.
Swirling down opposite, directionless, seed waiting.
Do you think this not the end?
Where? Do you remember why?
In what time and space do I know?
The talent stolen by the Talon, left a Mark.
And I saw her there.
I saw her there, the pain in your eyes.
She the same bloodline. And I for an eye.
Not a lazy one.
Those eyes are of my brothers of two sides.
Hiss gives every generation a Mark.
And when I saw you, and she was something there,
Hidden just for Eve.
Like treasure, like the puzzle piece...
And then We unlocked the code.
Son of Sham Marked Man...
Daughter of the Evening.
Tattoos.
Miles.
Marked.
Secrets not really...only one sided.
Eve of the Y chromosome.
There's no place like home.
Tis justice story, no indignation,
in the No Longer Nation...
Those genetics, March on.
Spiritual signs of a miraculous morning.
The dewdrops of tears, front the battle line.
The two Jobs.
One right, one left Talon removal.
Not in this lifetime...




This poem is about generational curses, I actually do have two brothers from two different size that have lazy eye. One is named Mark, when I am in psychosis, names and generational curses of genetics are very at the forefront of my mind. It is as if everything loops together and is very meaningful, and someday I want to write about all the stuff that made so much sense to me during that, as long as I stay alive. I feel like there is a demonic presence that wants me gone. Found it very strange,that I was poisoned with my medication on Monday, and have been sick sense, kind of like a six cents, I mean does that make sense? Why don't we question brother Mark?