A twitch of my head and the dead will crawl.
The dead will crawl with a scratching so intense they will leave marks upon my mind.
With the marks hard to remove, I twitch my head once more and awake the dead’s ancestors.
One by one they eat the flesh of the living within me, every aspect of life and trace of goodwill never evident after their presence.
The eyes of the dead so dark, my own eyes swell with the blackness of every mark they have ever left.
With one final twitch of my head I am consumed; under the power of the dead that are now living within me.
No wrong doings were made on my behalf yet the dead take over and find solace within the living thoughts I once possessed.