both the worms and the roots
the blood, the flesh
'tis their feast of choice
winding as laces through
a dead-man's boots
the force of death
courses through what's
underfoot to tempt
and snare with its
sparkling web
those drops of dew
that rain from shrouds
mournings of the past
shadows lap and savor
pools of tears and
future fears, in frozen
tides they fall upon
their prey below
the viral sleep of the rotting
to devour us in
regrets, the birth of our deaths
tacking to the mire
trapping of desire the
whispers of worms and roots
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