The worm he dances swiftly up the ankle of my bones
He crests the waves of belt buckles and hips as smooth as stones
One wiggle closer to the prize
Of brainpan thoughts and wandering eyes
He brings with him a quaint disease
It breathes a wind that buckles knees
The knees that kept me standing, kept my pupils locked in line
Now this black worm has edged into the highway of my spine
The spiral steps and collar bone, a temporary hurdle
Luckily his slippery frame were made for such a battle
So up he goes to dive into my choppy, brainy sea
And loose the anchor off his ship, infecting happily