Verruca Plantaris

Planted in my feet,
growing upwards,
inwards.
Fungal roots rotting flesh,
feasting on fetid juices.
Setting in, setting up
and sending prodes
home, here now.

Damp warm fertile fields,
centimeter swamps of strange semen.
I am human, but what are you?
viral, funal, alien,
all the same.
Foreign.
You are not welcome here.

Liquid apples ferment gas,
chemical warfare.
I watch your seeds surface
black hard eyes,
and finally look into the souless pupils of the enemy.
Retreat,
pull up,
withdraw,
slowly shrinking
eyes unblinking.

I will destroy you.

Published July 11, 2010 Write a comment
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