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