I Give You Terror

Squirming is my global, extended ganglia that squats in my puzzle of bones. This brain working to perfect and assign the subjective harmony that nature unwittingly ignored. As I will, my choice is destruction. To come and kill; removed in a slice. They wonder and laugh. The pits I have fallen in and crawled out of with fingerprints scarring the walls, making my will a mountain. The plan to invade and shave off the pitch is an elusive moment. Stealth-bubbles surface my inner conscience while my outer conscience takes holiday and refuge. Crawling as a serpent, bent on praise-filled mercy not given.