paranoia sits in my chest
a fist clenched around my heart
so quick it must be a snake
envenomed and eager to strike
every thought a judgment
every word a pointed finger
it’s so boring
to try to not be that way
so exhausting that i
let my gorge rise
open my mouth
and let the snake out
shadow puppet of a serpent
a hand shaped like the devil’s head
fingers curled into a fist
but still spitting poison
from my bloody, beating heart
Words and Feathers 
I hate it when I think I’m gonna burp, and my snake drops out of my mouth! Lol. Very cool words, darling.
Thank you. I hope I wasn’t too whiny.
The same as usual 😉
Excellent. Very Poe-esque. I always think of paranoia as a form of self-judgment and it seems you’ve illuminated that here very well.
Thank you. I didn’t think of as Poe like. I appreciate that comparison.
While I don’t quite have pronoia (a word I only learned today), I have been criticised for never being paranoid – even when I should be. I think that might also mean I’m not a poet.
Oh you’re definitely a poet. Now I have to look up that word.