Come out. Come out.


Beautiful monsters.
Days weighted with the whims of their desire.
Feasting on the buffet of bits. and. pieces. of. me.
Ingesting purity like life itself.
Words what will you say for them?
These lecherous leaches buried alive in my mind.
Speak, damn you.
Speak and my reply,
“Yes, I am still here!”
Will finally
deliver me.

Anna K Peters