WORM´S FEELING

I penetrate.

An intestinal and viscous world.

A warm and sweet one.

Wrapped in another´s flesh.

Trench wherefrom I´ll unchain my dark attack.

Soon.

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.

Carefully.

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.

I´m alone.

Me and my hidden delight.

Parasite´s delight.

I do not forget you.

You are my host.

I´m your guest.

We are one.