Fresh adrenalin to an old scar,
I hear it itching soft syllables with each beat of vile life,
And there’s this place inside,
The wound I’ve got to reach, I’ve got to bleed out the evil
And feel it drain.
Nothing but a disease.
A sickening clawing inside the stomach.
I’m scrabbling around trying to scavenge, to keep you weak,
To keep you under my power.
Deafening shades of red pounding, a sinister violin in your head,
Which scrapes the sinews of your mind until you are deaf.
The only thing you hear is me, working my way into you.
Piece by burning piece.
Flesh infested, ruptures in my wake.
Channelling aches through your veins.
Only wasting you away,
Sticking my fingers through your voice
Then throwing hard.
It’s all a loss of sense, but I know you feel me
Slipping stealthily in-between the rotting chamber of bones,
My safe haven, my body,
© PickledSparklyMoosePrincess – author