No Exorcism

I can feel you gnawing and I am tired of it.   I have lied to myself; insisted you are separate from me but now I see:   a bowline and a sheet bend are the same knot--                 one twists a rope around itself                 the other twists two ropes together --let's twist; come coil around me and lash your glistening stinger.   I am not afraid--                 not of your poison                 not of your sting                 nor of your rows of gnashing fangs.   I can feast on your flesh too, you see; pull brimstone-smoked strips with my teeth from your serrated spine like meat from a wingbone.   I have fasted too long and you are smelling savory.