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dandelions

(warning for body horror, gore)

A seed of doubt in one’s mind, planted, a shrivelled seed in the soil
Pushing through tender leaves, a dandelion unfurling its wings.
In the gentle wind it flutters, roots spreading and sinking
its curling tendons into the earth, hungry and unseen,
birthing seeds of woe and weight, dancing and unabating.
Crawl into veins and capillaries, subtle and uncertain,
whispering across membranes and bone marrow,
an itch underneath the skin- can’t be scratched.
A gust of wind, a subtle shudder, on and on they go,
catching in the throat and burying down through the chest,
multiplying. Parting ligaments, peeling sinew from end to end,
bending bones this way and that, growing through the cracks
an infestation, creeping through, never to settle.
Ripping at the leaves and stems, buried underneath
the debris. Fingers peeking through the petals,
a chest creaking under the weight, shaking heaving
for some air. To fight, forever and futile underneath,
the dandelions take hold and there they keep.