Cartilage, bones, bile and puss, dangling corpses of
dismembered thoughts;
Convulsing sporadically, a vessel void of life, rigor mortis
facades delight.

Laying here bare, worms feeding on my guts,
Languish bitter taste of anguish, glassy taste of dust.

Creeping and crawling, marauding my insides,
Borrowing deeper still, making me wonder, is he real?

Bizarre visions of tails and bones, flames and gore,
Down here in my hole, twisted in a very odd pose,
Hordes of maggots indulge on their favorite dose,
Protruding new holes from the back of my skull, pushing out
decaying grey matter;
Perforating my pelvis, deranged and gluttonous, salivating
micro intestines,
Moving so slightly, feeding so calmly, nibbling tiny teeth,
rowing little insects in a bourn of blood;

Wallowing in pain, considering the slight hum, of gnawing
away insects indulging on my tongue, what is left to be
done?

A slow paced torment munched away on my eyelids, leaving my
eyes forever open,
Peering straight up and seeing nothing but, an ill one sided
lust;

Befitting touch from those little things eating, distilling
the notion that they are all very willing, while very slowly
eating, may they bring an end to this god awful feeling;

I lay there wait for the definite to come, I can feel them
defecate in the back of my lung, a fine coronation to the
last few breaths of a rotting abomination.