I am a snake, born in the year of the snake, the month of the dragon. I bear no indignity, nor do I suffer fools who look down upon me.

The red of my blood cooled by night’s dark black,
I shall cause you no due fright,
Hasten near to feel my slick caress,
There, there, you’re safe here, Jack.

Tides change. Winds shift. Humors slacken or embolden. The world turns on and on, night to day, day to night. One hardly knows where things are nor where they’ve been.

Yellow bile bubbles up within the sanguine red,
Run away with shrieks of horror,
Touch me not and bravery supress,
Else from my bite ye wind up dead.

I demand nothing. I quietly wend my way. What’s mine, I take, whether it be a newt, a mouse, or rat.

Mind your P’s
Mind your Q’s
Silently passing
Deadly to you’s