The Invasion
A poem
It starts as a whisper,
an itch inside the skull.
Tendrils of an unseen invader
burrowing deep within.
The fungus spreads its web,
a sprawling mycelial labyrinth
colonizing grey matter,
claiming the mind as its own.
Neurons suffocate and wither
as the parasite feasts,
devouring memories, emotions,
the very essence of self.
Madness blooms like mushrooms,
sprouting in hidden crevices.
Delusions and hallucinations
become the rotting harvest.
The boundary between reality
and twisted fantasy decays,
eroded by the relentless assault
of the fungal horde.
Behind the eyes, something alien
now pulls the strings, a puppeteer
manipulating the remnants
of what was once human.
The invasion is complete,
the brain a festering garden
where lucidity has gone to die,
consumed by the insatiable hunger.
In the end, the body is just
an empty husk, a shell hollowed out,
playing host to a nightmare
that grows in the dark.
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