there is a solid rock of poison death
as black and foul as Satan's breath
as hard and sharp as knives of steel
as painful as all that is real
and now
it sits within my stomach
and drags upon my breathing
and it weighs within my spirit
and burns dark and rank and seething
it is the spell of reality
and it insists
that i must digest its every morsel
and that i can not resist.
