Flesh, Blood, Bones, Guts

TRIGGER WARNINGS gore, decaying body, second person, gross insects stuff, spiders, maggots, the full nine yards babygirl <3

You are a being so rotten, full of sick and filth. A beetle chewing through flesh and livers and brains and guts, finding nothing but more flesh to burrow into. A colony of worms living inside of your eyes, destroying what was living before it sinks deeper into the lungs that are webbed by spiders. A thick layer of mold grows inside of your stomach as ants crawl through the carpet, eating what bits of flesh are left inside of it. A meal lies ahead for the worms as it journeys into filth, the stench of vomit and liquified organs filling the small coffin in which you’ve found yourself in. Said liquified rotten organs are burrowed into by the worms as they are bloodied and fattened with pus, the sound of squelching, consuming, hungry worms filling the otherwise empty silence of the coffin.

The sight of worms eating, filling a dead body with their limp bodies, slime and maggots filling the hole-covered body. Limp and fat worms eat more and more and more as they continue to burrow, faster and faster forevermore until there is nothing left but a rotten corpse. It’s sickening as the cold, wet, slimy remains feel of ground meat and liquid goo. A handful of worms, crawling endlessly in your hands as they dig and dig and dig into your flesh, looking for its next meal. The smell is vivaciously cruel, hot, and tangy against your tongue, like rotten eggs and cow liver. The strong taste of iron with the texture of worms. Vomiting would only make it worse, as it already reeks of it.

They crawl in and out, in and out, eating with no signs of stopping their feast. It’s so cold but warm from the worms and the beetles and the ants and the spiders and the maggots as they inhabit the corpse with nothing but the animalistic urge to feed, it’s repetitive and empty, emotionless as they continue to feed. Watch as they burrow into you, watch as they eat you, rendering you to nothing but goo. You used to be a person and now you just feed the cycle, they lay eggs in your flesh as smaller, leaner, infant worms feed on you and lay eggs. You have done your due diligence and died nonetheless. Fought against the world and tried and turned it into nothing but worm food.

You cannot move, you cannot breathe or see or think, all you feel is the worms. The worms are loud in their feast. The spiders that tickle you with their endless webs and eggs. The ants that crawl as they bring food home to their queen. The beetles that play in your liver like it’s mud. You are being loved, you are being held, and you are feeding the world like you were born to do. The silt and pus and slime that cover your flesh is like a hug, and the kisses of the worms leaving holes in your flesh are welcoming.