The Eaters Beneath

I heard them first within the drain,

A chittering choir, slick with hate.

They whispered truths that oozed like rain,

And dripped behind my eyes too late.

—

My skull became a hollow nest,

Where writhing voices laid their young.

Their claws grew deep inside my chest,

Their tongues were hot, their breath was dung.

—

They scraped their names against my brain,

Carved letters deep into the bone.

Each syllable, a burning chain—

Each thought I had was not my own.

—

I dug my fingers past my scalp,

And felt them squirm beneath the skin.

They laughed, they laughed—a wet, black gulp,

Their feeding frenzy set within.

—

I clawed my face, I cracked my jaw,

I split the sockets, spilled my sight.

Yet still they sang, they still they gnawed,

And called my hollow corpse their light.

—

Now here I sit, my husk their throne,

A puppet, slack with chewing holes.

No thoughts remain—they’re not my own—

The eaters feast upon my soul.