#0079. This thing writhes inside of me, jagged teeth out, green skin, foul and grotesque. Like some ancient worm plunging through my gut. I push back on it, but its jaw is powerful and the wounds it leaves behind are gaping holes. Could you imagine being so empty and hollow? I disassemble myself, piece by piece, looking for its horrid head. It burrows deep. I cannot excise it. I twist. It has fouled everything inside me.
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