The Acacia Strain
CALF’S BLOOD
Sharpen the knife
We did this to ourselves

Bleeding, sickness
Our wounds are self-inflicted

Tourniquet, stop the bleeding
Rid the longing, halt the needing
Wriggling, writhing, rotting meat
Isolation, fucking delete

I am still bleeding
I am still breathing
I am still breathing
I am still breathing

The funeral is about to begin