The Serpent
 

The serpent sleeps in your stomach,

coiling, uncoiling

with every breath.

He slithers in circles, snaking

round and round,

up and down,

through and through.

You cannot sleep; you lay awake;

you feel him within

yourself, winding.

Tightly clutching your stomach

you reach into your throat

and gag; vomit.

Out the serpent slides, down the drain;

at last he’s gone,

but you still feel sick.

(I apologize for the line breaks: they are automatically inserted with an indent; and I feel the formatting is an important part of this poem.)

/bump

Call it pedantic and shallow for I care; say something.

It wasn't too bad. It seemed like it was either about being stressed out or the effects of a meth binge, which I've heard can be rough.

As a matter of fact, I find this meatloaf rather shallow and pedantic *leans back in chair, hands folded.* I'll crit this later, homez.

Family Guy ftw;
and you do that. ;D