Atavism

Drip your blood over me with your words.

Let me hear your heart pound around me.

Coat me with the liquid that is coursing through your veins.

For it may be the one thing that shields my going insane.

Rivulets, droplets, a fine mist in my ears,

My inside falls outside in time with your fear.

Deep within my being

The undulations and rhythms,

Like fracturing schisms,

Pierce through reality,

Eviscerating the synapses of my mind.

My thoughts spill out in sloshing loops

To gurgle into a mound

At our feet on the ground,

Where we rush through them,

Dancing until they are forever gone

Except for what oozes between our toes,

Like offal waiting to be licked away.

Rivulets, droplets, a fine mist in my ears,

My inside falls outside in time with your fear.

Drip your blood over me with your words.

Let me hear your heart pound around me.

Coat me with the liquid that is coursing through your veins.

For it may be the one thing that shields my going insane.

Written over twenty years ago
as the lyrics for a fictional song,
recorded by my character,
in a play-by-email and online roleplaying game.
Resurrected from The Internet Archive Wayback Machine.

At"a*vism (#), n. [L. atavus an ancestor, fr. avus a grandfather.] (a)

The recurrence, or a tendency to a recurrence, of the original type of a species in the progeny of its varieties; resemblance to remote rather than to near ancestors; reversion to the original form.

The recurrence of any peculiarity or disease of an ancestor in a subsequent generation, after an intermission for a generation or two.

Now and then there occur cases of what physiologists call atavism, or reversion to an ancestral type of character. J. Fiske

© Webster 1913.