doesn't rhyme

Gleaming chrome shiny segments
pinprick holes left in soft tissue, mechanical expressions
playing puppeteer while i dance my black dance for death.
I twitch as their legs pierce my brain.
I leak, they laugh, they grip tightly clicking, chattering,feeding.
oddly human these modern insects
with their superior intellect, and their knowledge to collect.
They remind me to die. fear is their food how far will they push
when will it cease.
they tell me to die.
 but i am dead as they nest in my brain.
never really seen on the periphery I know i am aware.
But i am dead who gives a fuck.
smoky,black and purple i fade.