“Maybe the parasites can teach us something.” -S. Adamo
Who knows who's going on in there?
It's me, of course, but not my flesh,
Not my ancestors plotting fresh
Variations on spiral heirs,
Just some spinning corkscrew, unseen,
Weaving that wicked plot called life,
Some endlessly whittled device,
Some fine, fierce redoubling machine
That does nothing but use my nerves
To redirect my behavior
So as to do it the favor
Of perishing as I deserve
And as it needs to reproduce
Properly in another host.
I will not be scared by my ghost.
We've already been introduced.
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