Acrid Canon Testo

The thought of bringing to term
This thing growing within
Elevates my disgust
To a crippling wretch

Feeling it crawl into me from the void
Is beyond gut wrenching
It's beyond anything
One could have dreamt
Or created fictitiously
Can you control what can not be killed?
What is to become
Of my imminent newborn

Taken to a room by gurney
Examined under fluorescent light
Everything I witnessed after this
I documented in my Acrid Canon

Taking mental note of all the horrors happening around me
To scribe down
While amid the massive havoc

After my eyes tamed to the light
I surveyed the room
And saw the abnormality

Crowning out of the person expressionless
Spread next to me I vomited out of fear

Hazmatted men now fill the room
Gathering around the bed
Admiring a four foot coiling gleaming slug

Blacking out from what I witnessed
Waking up and wondering
If what I saw was real or faked
Or some kind of a sickly fever
The man hovering above me
Told me I was close to hatching
Peering around the room again
I saw the gore that proved it happened

Morbid visions
Repeating again and I vomit in fear

My throw up made the man recoil
Enough for me to run away
No relief from my escape
The town just bore more fodder
For my Acrid Canon

Along the stretch of road before me
Far as any eye could see
Children strung from poles and scalped
Their skin and hair had been removed
Around their neck they wore a sign

Freeing the first that I could
Caused them to scream
Alerting their harvesters
Pliers and scissors in hand
The elderly ran
Towards me in multiples

Bolting into a near idling vehicle
They chase me faster
Than humanly possible

As I rode away I looked down
At the sign the child wore
That stuck to me with clotting blood
I peeled it from my chest and read it
"Write the name of what you feed it
In the chalk made of their bone
On the brick where it lay dreaming
And see your future"

Panic breathing
I can feel it
Crawling in me
Breaking my water
I grab a pen and as I fade
I write the burned in memories
Of my Canon
Acrid Canon

I pound on the horn
And beg not to give birth to it

This thing is in me
The Boanet's growing
The creature is in me the Boanet's growing
The Boanet's growing
The Boanet is coming out