The mercury’s silver, but my spit’s turning black, A vintage of venom I can’t take back. It didn’t start with a sting or a cinematic tear, It started with the quiet way I smelled your fear. I’m a fossil in the making, pressure-cooked and clean, The most violent shade of "nothing" you’ve ever seen. My pulse is a code that the machines can't read— A subterranean thirst, a Scorpio breed. I’m the doctor and the virus in a one-room cell, I’m the only one who likes the way the sulfur smells. They say "let it go" like it’s a heavy stone, But it’s not in my hands—it’s the marrow in my bone. I’m testing positive for the deep-end, the Scorpio. It’s a cellular siege, it’s a high-stakes "no." I’ve got a blueprint for the ruins where the orchids grow, I’m infected with the ways of being Scorpio. I’m a deep-sea creature with a light on my head, Feeding on the things that the surface left for dead. It’s a bioluminescent type of "get away from me," I’m the salt in the wound that preserves the memory. You call it a grudge, I call it archiving, In a dead-sea climate, I’m the only thing thriving. My DNA is a knot that you’ll never untie, A Scorpio truth is a beautiful lie. I’m so airtight that I’m suffocating on my own resolve, A math equation that I’d rather die than solve. I’ve got Hemoglobin-Hate and a Vitreous-Vow, The "infection" is the only thing that’s real to me now. I’m not a monster, I’m just over-developed, By a shadow-shell that the light hasn't helped. I’m testing positive for the deep-end, the Scorpio. It’s a cellular siege, it’s a high-stakes "no." I’ve got a blueprint for the ruins where the orchids grow, I’m infected with the ways of being Scorpio. It’s not a phase, it’s a fixation. It’s not a sting, it’s a translation.
