Everyone hype up my sister’s writing she’s an avatar of the corruption or something the way she was feeling that Crawling Rot
I think I’ll crawl off into the forest and give my body to the earth and the bugs. My flesh is battered, stained, and stretched almost to the point of rupture. I’d much rather leave this withered skin lying languid on the earthen floor, to be lovingly lifted from pearl pieces of bone by kind maggots. Dozens, hundreds, thousands of little insectoid legs will so attentively massage tense, gleaming muscle, and detangle gnarled bundles of nerves until it all melts into the mud. My thoughtless brain will pour from open eye sockets as tears of joy, my blood will pool beneath me unhurried as sweet golden honey. My organs, nothing more than shining baubles, will adorn the dull ground at my feet. Porous bones, free from awful, smothering tissues, will finally, gratefully, breathe the fresh air and sip the morning dew. The refreshment will be a welcome relief, after choking down my festering, bodily slime for so long. Joints will slip from their rusted hinges at long last. Please, do not weep for me, I promise that I will not go to waste. Eagerly, I will provide an elysian shelter for the foxes who sleep nestled in my hollow rib cage, feasting on discarded limbs. They’ll wail with the breeze as it whistles between the gaps in my teeth, and curiously sniff at the wildflowers as they begin to gingerly poke their way through the cracks in my smile. Then, the sun will sink, burying itself below the soil where I rest in my bliss, and the night sky will drape a sidereal blanket over me, keeping me perfectly warm even in the absence of skin.