Fresh Hell

 

Earth elemental

Fleshy segments

Burrow through the power of patience, appetite, numbers

Tiny grains of life

 

Life devours lower life

So things which creep close to the ground

Fishes, snakes, toads

Things which live under rocks

And have gaping senseless maws

Prey upon earthworms.

Nothing lives lower than a worm

But everything relies

On the foundation they lay

With their mindless, relentless drive

To consume earth

Pass earth

Be earth

 

They are blanks

Dirt passes through them

Moistened black

Richer for their contact

They gulp, gulp

Like vacuums

Like straws

Pulsing their way up and down the avenues they have created

A megalopolis underground

Utterly vast

Interconnected

 

Sometimes, being too blind to see

And too empty to resist

The vital impetus

Pushes them through the soil

Beyond the boundaries of their amniotic grit

Into the open air

Where, cut from contact with their animator,

The little golems shrivel

Into a line of dust

A memory of things

which should not touch light.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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