Infections

Infections:

In the resonating silence,

Deafening my ears...

Roars of distillment, not a whisper from your lips.

You took me to this resting place,

You asked me to bleed for you,

To cry to you,

To give to you my all.

You asked of me "Do you have faith?"

And I told you forever.

You brought me here,

A lamb following blindly

Into the cool calm insanity of your mind,

Your seeping madness...

And here I reside.

You asked me "Do you love me?"

I told you forever.

You whispered your

Everlasting kiss upon my ears

Lulling me into a pleasant poisonous sedation of the mind...

And I followed...

Like a lamb to the slaughter,

I followed blindly,

And you lead with the sweet seductive pleasures,

The hooks within my flesh, so deep...

You asked me then, "Would you hurt for me?"

I told you forever.

Pulling up on the steel within my flesh,

Thousands of infections spread forth from your lips,

Kissing me sweetly to share the infestation....

And I fed hungrily.

You asked me then, "Will you give me your all?"

I told you forever.

Like a leech wrapped in pretty paper,

You fed from me...

Replacing my everything with your infection,

Mindless indulgence

And I reveled in the pleasures of letting go,

Even as I lie dying...

I drank in the purification of your disease.

And then you asked me nothing...

The angel's breath of a whisper that you once lavished upon my ears was gone...

I knew nothing of your voice, your reason, your mind, your fingertips...

And you were gone.

I waited for your voice...your comfort...

For you to wake me from this deepened slumber,

Of my death, from my rot.

But here you left me, no words,

No soft offerings from your pained lips...

No sweet touches from your embrace...

The only thing you had left behind,

Was your disease...

And the growing coldness within.

In the resonating silence,

Deafening my ears...

Roars of distillment, not a whisper from your lips.

You took me to this resting place,

You asked me to bleed for you,

To cry to you,

To give to you my all.

From this sickness, I rose...

A monster within my own pretty flesh.

The thousands of little infestations,

I have mutated into my own infection

For a world that is ripe for the sowing,

With fresh-turned earth and soft minds.

For now, I spread my own infection...

And even now, it crawls within the deepest crevices of the soul and mind,

Anchoring with tiny splintered legs to latch unto its victims.

Even now, I whisper my infections unto you...