The taste of bitter, burnt, ****** bat lingers and loiters on my tongue.
12 compelling capsules; the vile creature consumes me. It becomes me.
We swallow the slimy brew like ***** –
forcefully, frantically, and (near) fatally.
It promise lies of peace, power and protection.
We swallow more pills, hungrily.
It’s parseltongue subdues me a circle deeper in Hell.
My taste is bland, touch is numb , breath is still, and we are gone;
Slithered away mixed in gunked, grotesque goop; the tar serpent.