'The Worm': Act I

Is it subliminal?

People like flies, dropping out of my life.

Microbicide, loaded up, entering my veins to distinguish all the parasites in my life.

Macroevolution, spreading wings through the thinning of my thoracic curve.

Once I was a worm.

Gestated in the mouth of dirt.

Aerating the earth with my appetite.

Young in counting rings.

I was of the most slimmest of things.

Vibrations and sound waves raise the worms from their soil graves.

That's how they remove tapeworms from your body.

Vibrations cause the worm to move and find its way out through a hole in your skin.

You cannot remove me with noise.

Shattered lines morphed between the evergreen.

The breaking down of chemicals released through manic fluttering of dopamine and epinephrine.

Heart pumping louder than the sound of a building collapsing.

If all we fear is feeling insignificant, why do we always put ourselves in that position?

Terminal dissociation.

Returning limbs to the ends of my disrupted flesh.

Now where wings stretch.

Cocooning myself into myself.

Refuge in reverse progression.

Self fertilization.

Blooming skin in a timely manner.

Sheltered flowers, blossoming my veins, exposed to the sunlight.

I am wearing myself on the outside of myself.

Open book shelve of muscle tissue and dripping valves.

A garden of Eden coming out of my mouth.

Sprouting a botanic release, in place of words now form weeds.

It's the February sun that feeds the flowers till they reach the sky.

Drowning the ground with what used to be snow.

With it I grow, developing process begins to show, as I crawl out from underneath the cold.

Shivering new body, virgin to the oxygen so my shell begins curdling.

The stage in which my shedding begins.

Finishing the inauguration of the gram-negative, microaerophilic bacterium.