There's an echo--
Imitation...

Here where empty space lives.

--Breathes.

A shell of a former-anterior me.

Tingled once,
With aspirations until
I retracted into
Siphon-like demons.
Breathing umbilical cords
Casting contagion.

Riposte; for cures
As their existence is fain.
While ignoring there properties.

I've been consuming
Blood from others,
And wearing their husks
Because their personalities
Could-also be mine.