mordicai caeli (mordicai) wrote,
mordicai caeli

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as if there could be any fucking poetry about it.

you see, wriggling down the corridor, writhing organs & grasping talons pulling at the walls, shrouding in a cloud of blasphemies. coming on, relentless, into the mass of refugees, shoving our ovipositer into them repeatedly, implanting them with our little seeds, waiting for our black children to sprout, to glimmer dark as a beetle's carapace. pretty soon there are bloody eggsacs all over (& us, each plunge of our generative organ pulling it off, because like a bee's stinger it is barbed). digging deep inside the meat of the Others, we hollow out a coccoon of flesh, a place to hibernate & regenerate, to pass the time. the flickering of the hive's sussurrus is nothing more than the onset of the deep sleep. as the mass collapses back into shadows. we did okay.

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