Something crawls under my skin Wiry tissues display triumph of the syndrome Anguish and disillusion keep weakening my senses Self-destruction triggers disgust at anything A process that relieves my depression somehow
My flesh comes off revealing botches and sores I'm a man sewed up by the silence of aseptic cures slowly digested by a relentless cutaneous terror
swallowed by the Morgellons
My hands keep scratching the crusts off I seek comfort in physical eradication It's insanely tough by I have to My body is falling into pieces! Mutilation may reveal a novel morbid pleasure
Compulsive contractions break up the derma These are plagues of a martyr with no god My fingertips melt down in my on flesh and blood While the stench is strong enough to blur my mind
There's no hope in self-amputation Wiry tissues grow longer with no hesitation I see the reflection of my mutilated body trembling on the cold surface of kitchen axes One left to go, one more cut to my throat Soon everything will be over, distant, gone!