Modus Operandi

she sleeps in her soft cocoon. fashioning the threads that these needles will use. waiting on the world outside to learn what she has always known. these diseases are the only reason we have to live. those plagues. who are we, if not their victims.

heroes are for children. and those that cannot save themselves.

and even if i can't. save myself. better still to have fought and perished.

what is the shame in having loved the sickness. knowing i was loved by it.

clutching the dog. as it pants through its seizures. three legs are enough if you are stubborn. the future will wait for us. if we give it a good reason.

i try to fall asleep. while whispers of the hunt resonate deep in the tissue of decaying muscles.

there is no method. just this madness.