One drop of blood
infused in the oily liquid
in his Seer’s bowl
breaks the stillness
of his mind,
uncovering the truth
about the man.
This drop reveals more
than a shock of silvery curls,
a rich velvet cloak
or the golden amulet,
sign of an affiliation
with the ruling class,
ever will.
The blood speaks of
burning jealousies,
petty rivalries,
and busy scheming.
A smile lights up the Seer’s face
as an idea echoes in his mind
and his plan takes shape.
I am the master of delusion.
I invade your thoughts
spreading fears and insecurities.
I rob you of your sanity
one bit of peace at a time
until chaos is the only certainty.
I am the master of adulteration.
I drench every gesture, every look
with a meaning it does not possess.
I soak every word, every smile
with innuendo and allusion
until even the innocent look like sinners.
I fill your veins with poison
and your stomach with acid.
I am Zelus,
I am the god of jealousy
and I am not finished
until I own you.
november child 