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.