the seeping

i flinch at the teeming and the writhing, the chirping cluster and quiet sole, the vileness of the growth, the replication of the disease, the facsimile of ground, the hot sick darkness, the hungry machines twisting and churning, the blur of piston heads crashing against metal casements, the imperceptible whine of countless tiny circuits, the fallow glow, the lurid mixing stench of food and sweat and piss and shit and time, the holes the creatures have dug, the thousands of legs all turning over each other and chewing the dirt, the pale dim lurching off the grit, the dull impact of each wing’s beat, the trenches, the rust colored stains, the shape of the fragile light, the way it shatters through everything, throwing a cascade of neat little squares across the concrete, the soft hopeless touch of the immaterial, the skittering of the condemned, the places they have to hide, the constant roar that soaks through everything for miles, the walls they built to scoop up life itself, the way you dance blissful across the outside panels of the casket, the way you speak, the way you don’t, the hole where the memory should be, the struggle of roots pushing their hope vainly through a living world entombed, the dissolution of the fabric, the un-weaving, the vellum around your righteousness, the decay ensconced in it, the flat grey air that settles into a shroud between us, the—

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