Deadly

I wish you had been poison. Poison in which could be easy to cure, like a snake bite in which its venom could be sucked out. A type of sickness that can be cured with antibiotics or even the suffering of nasal congestion, coughs, and restless sleep. I wish you had been another, anything but what you are. It's run rampant in my life and as I chase after it, trying to sink myself onto it, it shakes me off and continues to run at breakneck speeds I can't physically do. I wish you had been Anger, like a metal rod put in fire. Red and hot and virtually unchangeable but easily thrown away if I chose to. Or placed back into the fire, manipulated time and time again, and although it may burn me or scar me, at least there's the chance that I can throw it away. I wish you had been Envy, like the green algae that fester the waters of once beautiful ponds. Virtually unable to sweep away or scrape away, or even prevent but still, I could brush it aside to see the waters. Even if it's still there, I can brush it aside wider and wider, wider and wider, until it's at the edges in which they can cling to the water walls attempting to survive. I wish you had been Sloth, like a lazy dangerous beast. At least I could chase you away. Beasts must be afraid of something right? Fire? Noise? I could ask a witch to brew Sloth something special, something that could chase you aside out of your cave. Something in which a caveman or even I could corner and kill, like the once giant sloths that have existed in evolution in which humans have terminated. I wish you had been Gluttony, like those hungry mythical monsters that live in the sea who demand virginal sacrifices from whichever poor country you've ransacked. At least then, I could be the mythical hero from a far away land who have come a long journey to kill you in order to continue my quest for something better. I wish you had been Greed, like the pink pigs run on a farm. At least I could've fattened you up before slaughtering you and it wouldn't have been in a FDA approved manner either. I'd slaughter you in the methods depicted in The Jungle because Greed isn't clean and it doesn't feed anything good but it'd still been better than who you are. I wish you had been Pride. At least I could've smashed mirrors apart and even though I would have seven supposed years of bad luck in an attempt to kill off Pride, at least the years wouldn't be full of you. Even Venus fell down with a mortal lover and at least if I fell down with Pride, I could've started another chain of events that would be better than the mess you're dragging along. But you? You're something that I can't withdraw from. Even when I find myself as far away from it as possible, it'll come chasing after me like a ghost missing the warmth of life. A drop of you, a small sample of you, and your aftertaste can't be washed away. It expands and I try to pull my skin apart to let you out because you're making my skin too tight. You're making me exhale too often when I should be trying to inhale because you're sneaking your fingers to my lungs and squeezing. You're a weapon growing inside of me and yet I can't launch you away. You're not killing me softly either, there is no softness in death, and when I figure out how to exterminate you, you shouldn't smile at me because I won't be killing you softly either.