Per 
A woman sat in the dirt, legs crossed. The movement did not look natural. No, it compared to a lamb that had fallen over onto its back. She was so lonely, so lonely. She drew a blanket around her for warmth and began trudging through the long dirt road. As she walked, the cloth became filthy and diseased. It collected dirt and flesh littered along the trail. It grew hide, thick and dense and angry.
I am screaming as though a swarm of leeches is upon me. You defiled me. Pieces of me fall away into the red mud, but I am still growing. I cannot look before me. I can only see the viscera that I leave as my eyes are drawn out by the rubble and gore. Where are you going? Can you hear me? I am being dragged by my feet into hell and the devil is humming a lullaby.
Trudging through warm dew
Along the muddied track
Feeding the notion
And the ticks on your back
I'll cut my ears off so I don't hear you
I'll feed them to you
I'll feed them to you
The mass of corpses, purple and blue
A living rind
Do you wonder if they're alive
Deaf and blind and one-of-a-kind
Oh, how you grew
I'll feed them to you
I'll feed them to you
A blanket sat in the mud, swollen and twitching. The movement did not look natural. No, it compared to a swollen tick that had fallen over onto its back. It uprooted itself and drew its red cloak tight. A tormented face bled through the rosy cloth as the blanket traveled on. The blanket paid it no mind, even after it began to sing softly.
The ticks chatter and chew
On varnished phlegm
Come closer, bloated ones
And I’ll whisper to them
In this bloodied brew
“I’ll feed them to you”
“I’ll feed them to you”
