Lying still and silent.
Waiting for death, or something like it.
Helpless and hopeless, weak and tired.
Cold life slump.
Cold dry blood.
Counting every second.
They remain alive.
Shrivelled, lifeless.
Eaten away.
Necrotic and rotting.
Spreading decay.
Eaten away.
Spreading decay.
The infection was cut.
From the wounded appendage.
But nothing could impede.
This cellular wreckage.
Churning through these bodies like a drill.
Churning like a drill.
Worming, parasitic fevers leave them lying still.
Leave them lying still.
Hiding massed bodies under hills and mounds.
Bodies in the mounds.
Clogged, swollen, bulging graves never to be found.
Never to be found.
They burnt they removed.
They tried to replace.
But those who survived.
Asked for death in its place.
Yet those who survived.
Begged for death in its place.
The Alberta crushers hold tight to their rank, astral-gazing grindcore, staring down abyssal torment all the while. Bandcamp Album of the Day Mar 31, 2020