I, Flatline - Leeched

Like a blade in the skull, it’s fused to the marrow

The machines wash the stains from my throat and bring the marks into my already

burnt skin

Sew the stomach so the eggs won’t leak

Crush the remaining stillborn

Discard the flesh

The harvest draws close

But how will they find me?

I won’t leave until my guts are full

The fluid that flows through my veins

This blade, it just won’t dull

The soil and the drugs, it’s all the same

The blood and fangs, rooted in bone

Washing over the guard

Roaming the plains of sand and salt

Another hand tears free

But the virus remains

The slums mourn at night

The sound of terror, the sound of shock

The whores now roam, feasting

Like a blade in the skull, it’s fused to the marrow

The machines wash the stains from my throat and bring the marks into my already

burnt skin

Sew the stomach so the eggs won’t leak

Crush the remaining stillborn

Discard the flesh

The wolves are feeding in masses

Birthed straight into the sterile fluid

The sun, it sears my eyes

You saw me as a rat

Is that the same body I taunted?

Here comes the machine