Futility in clawing at my flesh,
A pain that runs deeper than veins and tissue
My organs, the womb to a terror within
A scourge unto this sterile world,
I am a carrier

Unearthing this sickening truth,
Fingers embedded within my infected wounds
Pustules, the mark of their movement;
Trailing sluggishly within my vessels
Pestilence, my becoming
From the bowers of man,
This formless terror shall ascend

Skin wearer, your form deceives me
Your hundreds of malefic voices
Taunting in harmonious tongues
Sores, enumerated by their feastings
This living decay, a tide of tainted waters upon pure sands

My secret runs deeper
Than the veins beneath my skin
With eyes that watch
From the bottom of fed upon sockets,
This usurping world has irked my every sense

Cloaked beneath this drape-like cloth,
Anticipation moving decayed legs,
This husk of skin deteriorates
I shall ascend this edifice,
And with quick step,
Unleash this infestation
Upon an unknowing, unclean world