Medusa's Barber Poem by Insane and luving it

My job is worth much
more than eleven drachma
an hour. The venom

is strong, the scissors
are stoney. And red. And dead.
And useless to me.

The fang sliced its way
Into my young barber flesh
And it bled. It bled.

I tried to give life
But it had life already
Too much life for me

I tried giving depth
And layers and colour to
The hair that bit back

And turned me to stone.
I spoke not. I heard not. I
Saw everything. Help.

I hate that stupid
Hairdresser. Poncing around
With his scissors and

Styler. I asked for a
Feed - I wanted fuller locks.
He gave me a hell.

“Nutrition and food
Is what they need, ” I explained.
He shook his head. “No,

Darling, you need a
Makeover. A trim and a
Colour. Some layers

I think.” No you don’t.
Those scissors went near my poor
Snakeys – Hush lovelies.

I won’t let him harm
A dear hair on my head. My
Eyes cast over him.

He fell to the ground.
My reptiles came to him and
Scarred him away.