Ode To The Fer De Lance (We Named More Fien) Poem by Axley Jade Blaze

She never came to me wholly innocent,
She was venomous by nature, and even I knew what that involved.
Yet there was a prevalent, morbid fascination with her almost graceful and silent ability to attack.
Strike. Seize. Conquer. Demolish.
The type of phenomenon that causes you to stare at a disaster blankly, deer in headlights, frozen, and immovable.
To muse a five-car collision, a rotting corpse. The morbid appeal, even when you know what that equates to.
It's an inner craving, an unconscious and secret wanting, relentless, and without aim.
Still, I heard the narrative, and that kept me at a distance for some time, while I toyed with other snakes. Cottonmouths, and pythons, popping them in my mouth like candy. Testing them and their own savage effects.
Their venom or rage, their violence you see, while potent, only numbed and sickened me after for a time, but they were never fatal in their deliveries, in their offerings, in their attempts. Only sufficient enough to alleviate a different sort of painful sensation, forcing me to refocus.
And I always said the same thing, 'I'll toy with the others, but I WILL stay away from her! '
The Fer-de-Lance, MoreFien, she was called.
The deadly viper, with her treasured, precious poison.
In survival, comprehension of toxins is vital.
Yet, there it was;
The poking, prodding, the voice as persistent as a hungry, fevered mosquito.
Curiosity always lingering compulsively, like a trail of crumbs too small to see. Too insignificant to therapy; to dust away for good.
As time went on, I became more fearless.
I wrapped the Boa around my neck, swallowing her offerings with ease.
I unchained the rattlesnake for a moment, let her out of the bag.
She was as close as it gets: sweaty, glistening skin.
Pupils dilated, the venom came in a package that time
But they were just samples, small tastes of what was in store.
Looking back, it's unfathomable I believed I had any control.
As if I would succeed when she came in for the kill.
As if I could will natural selection. Command it. Commandeer it.
And finally, one day, I decided to approach her.
Carefully, with ease, small steps that grew larger.
Instantly, her effect was hypnotic, and I offered my wrist for the biting— 
The Fer De Lance. I envision how she whirled in and bit. My core was overtaken; nobody survives the venom of such a magnificent beast.
Asphyxiation. No ventilation, as my veins were bursting.
Heart rate down to nothing, beneath the white waves, a looming cloud.
The way her toxicant swam through the bloodstream, curling into my bones.
The way suffocation almost feels like heaven for one minute; with her substance both the poison and the antidote all rolled into one.
Something devastating and yet, exquisite.
Then there was all that skin open for the shedding which provided something else—masks.
By the time she revealed her true self, I was baited for the kill.
I was already gone.

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