Soul Migration

The memory of it sits behind my eyelids and clings to me.
Gnawing at me, and furiously beckoning toward dark paths.
Until the eye sockets are left a blank spot in my once exuberant face.
Crawling out of the empty holes, and caressing my skin with a barbed blade.
Tampering with my flesh until veins are exposed and sapphire blood turns crimson.
Tearing venations and blood vessels apart as tree branches cut off from a majestic oak.
Muscles filleted like a fish cut open, grinding against a chop board.
Tears descend from schlemm's canal.
Plasma covers these silken walls, murderous notes in a symphony of hatred.
The knife slides into my torso, and cracked ribs weep and bend, like a twisted smile.
My heart stops, and my vision encompasses flashes of a black ghost.
The spirit cackles in my face and tells me to pursue towards the nightshade.
Sunlight is faded, out of my view and I'm left entranced by a figure.
The body is slim, and it has a body composed of exposed muscles and veins.
"do not forget. It is never too late to join us."

Author's Note

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