Slayed By The Hand Of Affliction

It is my disposition to delude you.
Like a scandal, I am buried neatly, deeply,
beneath the thick crux that supplies you with life
I’ve secured infallible access to manipulate all things yours,
Impersonating as your sanity, the explanation of illusive conversations
plaguing your mind with terror, anguish,
the horrors of false reality;
hearing only the shrieks of a familiar voice ensnared in the traffic of
nostalgia densely floating towards the center of your being,
My lengthy stay roots in nefarious ways, outlandish conduct
perceived by those accustom to your mores,
Phased not by the crowd of eyes and whispered criticism, I continue
to infiltrate your mind,
spreading my venom, a stealthy toxin undetectable by mortal machines,
Eradicated solely at the final exit, when man returns to nature.