Saturday, 6 February 2016
An intestinal and viscous world.
A warm and sweet one.
Wrapped in another´s flesh.
Trench wherefrom I´ll unchain my dark attack.
I´m not in a hurry.
I´m not born yet.
Time is my midwife.
I can feel it
loosening my carapace softly.
The cradle is broken,
and I swim free into a sea of acids,
fondled by its sensuous streams.
I plunge into the fleshy caverns,
and in the depth,
I anchor my hooks and my mouth
to its palpitating walls.
I relish his unawareness.
I relish his blood and digestions.
We are one.
Now I must grow.
May he doesn´t feel me, may he doesn´t feel me,
and my body will dwell his more secret chasms,
and even return to me, to come back to there.
I ripen, evil and gluttonously,
and a promise of doom does it with me.
A promise of offspring.
Filiform and greedy.
My being inflates brutally
with the weight of this promise.
I expel my roe.
It goes through my domains.
Time will guide it towards the exit.
If I´m not noticed before, thousands of my sons
have to find a groundbait wherein to seal themselves off.
Maybe I´ll meet them again
and I´ll have to kill them.
I do not want company.
Neither do they.
Me and my hidden delight.
I do not forget you.
You are my host.
I´m your guest.
We are one.