passive agressive poison

I have always had lingering suspicions, questions, fears, worries, and apprehensions nestled quietly in the back of my head. But now, more than ever, their purring has grown louder and louder to the point of a collective, snake-like hiss and I wonder how I was able to deal with such poison for so long.

To expel venom from a snake, you generally have to milk the snake by bringing its fangs to a latex lid on the fore of a vial. This angle of the snake's mouth activates and puts pressure on the venom glands, and then, drop by drop, tiny globules of milky poison (they look like pearls!) are extracted from the creature. While this extraction is both vital and beneficial, there are two lingering problems (at least in my mind):

1. The snake, venomous or not, still looks the same
2. There remains a certain doubt, regardless of assurances of its safety, that the snake will always be poisonous, so much so that other creatures will cower in fear from something that may be innocent; or conversely, the weak and vulnerable may quiver in silence, feeding only the insatiable ego of the toxic reptile.

Moreover, it is important to consider the curious position of the snake in the process of milking. While it releases potentially deadly toxins and certain agents into the vial, it is also providing the necessary ingredients for antivenin, an antitoxin that is essentially used to save others from the fatal effects of itself. Additionally, when the snake expels its venom, it does so for all to see. The glass is clear, and the milker realizes how vile this seemingly sleek and shiny creature really is.

It must take courage to expel the vile in your own vial.
If I were a snake, I don't know if I would be able to do it.
But then again, a snake never chooses to expose its toxicity.
It remains hidden, beneath its smooth scales and marble eyes
only revealing itself to its unfortunate victim
as she hears its slithering body coming closer.
It hisses louder
It rattles its tail
and then attacks
sinking its fangs deeper and deeper into her skin.

Soon after, the victim usually begins to bruise and sweat. And then sometimes, depending on the severity of the toxins, he or she may become paralyzed, completely consumed by the bite. And while the victim lay coiled and catatonic on the ground, spewing milky saliva into a pathetic little pool by their chin, one may consider how similar the snake and its victim are to one another now. The more intellectually ambitious individual may question who the victim really is, anyway. The girl was warned, after all.

I lay in my bed right now, motionless. My eyes are reflecting these words, my mind is pulsating, and I am hurt. But I must wonder: am I the snake, or am I the victim? And even if I am one of those, how would I be able to tell the difference?

I may choose to open my mouth and see what comes out.  There are numerous benefits, after all.
Truth, a remedy, certainty, etc.
But that requires the courage to accept that I could expel just spit
or worse: venom.
And that I must shatter my hope that I have just been bitten and do not bite.
Well, my only vial is tinted.
And I can't open my mouth yet, because
even when I have begun to speak and to expel my poison and my doubts, I hear hisses of
"Oh, just get over it.
That doesn't even matter.
It's irrelevant."

Well, I don't trust a moving mouth anymore, not even my own,
not even from a friend.
Friends and foes both have flesh.
And I've come to the realization lately that
all teeth are toxic, milked or not.

(Additionally, I wish that I am not taken for a fool. That is the most insulting thing of all.)