My cancer came knocking. It was dressed to the nines. So I peeled back my skin and I let it come inside.
But it won’t leave, though the guests have gone. No it pours a drink and requests another song. Now it sleeps in between us. Splits and doubles in size. Apes my nuances of desertion, lust and arrogant pride. And it drags me out of my head.
The plague is now empowered.
My cancer waved torches. Broke the lock on my door but I’m powerless to refuse it anymore.
Is everyone comfortable? Is everyone having a good time?
My friends are all vampires. Come to drain and transform.
I kept the window cracked and the light on. Kept the leftovers warm
Maybe I make myself sick
Make me give a damn and I will be with you everywhere. I will open the sky. I will follow you into hell. Kill everyone in our way. Open your heart to the snake oil peddlers.
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Botch is the offspring you would get if Agnostic Front and Meshuggah had consensual sex without contraception. It hits you like a king hit from a mugger and grabs hold of ears like a lesbian mid climax. I am still coming to grips with the fact that I only recently discovered them. nord3276