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I am ravenous. I am starving. The pains in my guts chime like church bells on a day when the fog is low and suffocating. Outstretched infront of my calloused eyes lies a field of candy. The candy wears rainbows with pigtails and braces, and shoes they did not buy themselves. Such quaint, delicious little packages that ask me to devour them. I know they ask. They don't use words I use, but they ask. They offer me their sugary coatings, their sweet succulence. They flaunt it so knowingly, so boldly. How I long to satisfy the cravings, to give in, to indulge....
FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. I am so fucking sick! So fucking sick of myself. What the fuck is wrong with me? You worms of hell inside me,finish your work and consume me completely. Mortal, sinner, evil man! You aren't even worthy of death or reintegration. Weakness personified in frail flesh! You deserve every pang of torment. Every lick of flame. Every dart.
....but I am so hungry.
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I have faith in a few things - divinity and grace
But even when I'm on my knees I know the devil preys
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