"Infected, and Terminal"

DESCRIPTION: spoilers below text

I follow
people like me
as my wounds grow
we, alone, are the infected

So I follow
as I drift alone
spread the blood we despise
we, cannot escape, and isolate

They say I need a cure
so I went to the plague doctor
He didn't give me flowers
So I had to go to the asylum instead

With the ther sickly children we dance and play in sand
as we get our cuts infected, on life support we laugh
The sickness is spreading, soon this will be done
So we recreate the problem, we get sick, they take the gun and

Disease, if only it smelt nicer in this abyss
Disease, at this rate we'll never become healthy again
Disease, we've lost all we had and they're making it worse
The garden, I can't get any better because they won't let me back in

You made me terminal

DESCRIPTION: "get therapy" - doesnt meaningfully change anything. "ok then get jailed" - once again foiled by the educational-legal-medical paradigm. if they throw you out somewhere else and pretend it's making you better, they won't have to think about you anymore. because they don't want to remember you're a human. and so, we hide, as the infected, simply making eachother more sick by the day, because treatment cannot be found without simply infecting the healthy. quarantine but by social instead of physical