the impurities

xvii. infested

Thousands of insects
Crawl through the mud
Beneath my skin—
I am a corpse
Infested with maggots
Gnawing into my soul.

They lay their eggs
In my throat
In my stomach
On my swollen tongue—
But they cannot escape
Through my lips.
The hardened muck
Has closed them forever.

I must carve them
Out of my flesh
And let the mud
Ooze through my wounds.