there are angels outside the windows. they whisper to me.
i cannot hear them. they whisper to me.
there are maggots inside my skin. they gnaw at me.
i cannot scratch them. they gnaw at me.
my brain is rotting. necrotic tissue given divine sentience.
i was put upon this plane of existence for a purpose greater then my moldy consciousness.
there is mildew in my lungs.
i breathe in the stale air that festers in my atmosphere.
my decaying heart beats with a feeble pulse faint in my veins.
i rot.
i rot.
i rot.
i rot.
i rot.

]]>https://mpp.community/forum/topic/67813/yeahRSS for NodeSat, 31 Oct 2026 19:08:16 GMTSat, 31 Oct 2026 11:48:56 GMT60