You suck out the poison

Let's see who comes knocking with a brand new crescent on the horizon...um..it reads here Strength but I cut the deck a second time, kinda cheated. Poison finds a way to present itself at indiscreet times. There’s a black widow nesting just a few feet outside the doorway. Must I kill it? She’s perilously close to dog level and who knows what manner of travel whims influence the deadly arachnids? I can’t find enough reason to live with a completely unpredictable, venom-filled assassin in a common environment where rehabilitation is not an option. Still, I’ve lived with her here for three days and have yet to act. I don’t take this lightly.
Fighting to live is a difficult situation and poison finds a way to give us a glimpse of hell or at least torture. I can still feel the black rot trickling through my cables and the dizziness comes and goes now and again. My defenses are weakened and take time to smother the invaders that contaminate my system. I pray that a long sleep may come my way but I would like to be awake and fresh on Monday night when the Falcons play the Saints in the Superdome which is where the Saints of football play but not for over a year because of the hurricane. The antidote is tenderness. I’ve gone to a strange place and I feel like I’ve come back to not-so Funkytown which buffaloes me in ways that are hard to fathom. A strong heart is needed to beat poison.
I’m





Just make it good. Why does that make my head throb and a word like... stymied comes from some recessed hole like a black spider and paralyzes me as if there were real venom involved.
I have two skulls framing my screen and they demand so much from me. The deep holes that once contained eyes that absorbed a lifetime twice over, perhaps filled with toil and torment, maybe fulfilled and loved, or just lost and hungry for my soul.
I've got to be honest here, that got a little weird, sort of not what I intended and I could feel it going away and yet... felt... powerless.
Harumph. Halloween is coming a little early this year? Let the fright parade begin only his time I'm Joan Crawford to the leering Baby Jane. I hate it this way.
Nevertheless, I shall persevere and I shall return to some state of glory, only to surpass that. Der Zorn Gottes!