He speaks in brown recluse venom,
every word fanged and dripping
with a heightened sense of self-importance,
jaded by a world that never seems
to see and agree with his vision
’cause he never takes the time to question
how another person might receive him.

He harbors every disrespect and insult
in a place that’s deep within him,
where vengeance and unforgiveness
create an atmosphere of hate.
He gives it nowhere healthy to go
and so it starts to decompose,
hollowing his humanity.

Inescapable below him,
it was only a matter of time
before the lesions of necrosis
began to pock my skin.
All his negative energy
siphons out my compassion
and I begin to die within.

My kindness has become rotted,
exhausted with a consumerist world
seeking only to take from others.
My bones will be picked clean,
unsupported, despite my cries
because nobody seems to find the problem.
The recluse knows how to hide.

Still, I wonder about this dead-souled man
and how he might have come to be.
Was he once just like me and caught
in a place of oppressive darkness,
reaching for the light of another
who only closed their eyes?
Will I soon be full necrotic?

It seems I contend with what could be
glimmers of my possible future
if I don’t take time now to guard my heart.
Beneficial fear invites me to a decision
to always strive for the positive spin,
but unfortunately for my spiteful foe,
he’s already lost and too far gone.