Flesh

The surface of the Earth is marred with holes and scars
Of all its injuries it bears still bleeding marks
Which drip with blood in pace with time

The Earth has veins to carry forth
A viscous sludge that warms and cures
From inside all is boiling, all is wretched


The Earth is a ball of flesh
That festers with gangrenous life
And is hurled through a dark embrace
Which cares not for all the little signs of infestation

We are cast from the same dank matter
Each and all
And that which is the basis
For all our inconsequential reactivity
Is made of flesh as well

Unified we stand
An army of rot
Born aloft on our moldering vessel
We live, then die
Together