Before the fresh cum sock under the bed

dries to a mycelial womb,

and mushrooms rise to imitate their god,

a desperate ant colony takes interest—

an angelic feast, white and glistening.

They gorge themselves on holy ooze,

their bellies swelling, filled with cum

glowing like milky white opals in the dark.

Cum-crazed communist ants share the wealth,

swapping cum nectar between twitching mandibles,

suckling the sacred cummy sock fibers,

bathing in the last traces of spent divinity,

before the flood of cum turns to dust,

before the land is salted beyond salvation,

before the fluid crystalizes into ruin. 

They return to their queen,

bearing their precious gift.

She, who already holds immortal seed,

accepts the sacrament,

and from her womb, a pale ant emerges—

its skin slick with ghostly sheen, 

forever searching for its father

in fungal forests of yore.