Principia Infecta

Men and women are but worms upon the corpse and rotten bones of this world - the last vestige of a death aeons past, unnoticed and uncared. How the mighty have fallen! The corpse moans yet for the relief of oblivion, but you vermin knaw on, fighting for the choicest putrescence. Flies came from the stars, long ago, but sparse few saw fit to leave eggs that fester into maggots deep within - you are the infestation upon that shunned even by the eaters of dung.

Build your cities of rot and corpse-strands, fight to eat the flesh of the world, mate in your piles like worms rubbing and squirming. There will come to be a void where once was a corpse world and its vermin - and might that be soon enough that I hear the cries of those torn to a thousand lonely dooms.

[ Posted by Reason on October 20, 2006 ]