Discomfiture

 
Discomfiture
Widow Wyile
 

sweet   swivet   you are not
how I long for you
to end
your frenetic thrall
induces pallor
discomfits
the very feeling of my clam
damp palms
viscous uncertainty
fills my sense of self
qualms it seems
are endemic to the nature
of the malady you afflict
upon so many
who fill with anxious rushes                                    
trembling as emotions
rise to flood and flush
faces blanch
bodies shudder
breaths
become shallow
throats narrow
it grows hard
to swallow
brains tingle
feel fuzzy
but the paradox stands still
as you both muffle   weight
while the hapless drift feeling weight
less
reality  meanwhile  transmutes 

swivets grow swiftly
both bind and wind   they rush
at  hearts       steam ether
into  minds
rattle  limbs    ice up
innards     leave
bodies sweating    swooning
or minds ill with chilling
     uncertainties

swivets are creeping ivy
floating thistledown seed
rhizome gout and knot
weed
and chokecherry dry
their frothy flowers pretty
camouflage for the casual observer
who won’t have a clue
that wearers beset with your bespoke
   disc omf iti ng
 helms
wonder if they somehow
ingested
death caps
if there is any
way out
or up through
their over
whelm

Graphix Solution (in reverse): 1- t e v i w s 2- m l e h w r e v o