Those vitaman's taste good not in my throat
My tension so tight
My esophagus pressurize upward
Before anything can fall down wards
And I'm removing and rejecting
Sustence for escaped air
Or rather unescapable air
Trapped in the center of my throat
Below the voice box
Above the acid pit
And directed exactly
To push on my lungs
Lean on my heart
And it's going I think but I'll tell you this
It's weaker anyway
And will be
When I poison myself
With lies about where courage come from...
It's not from this if I didn't make myself clear...
It's not from begging for cardiac arrest with hunger suppressants
Which take over your entire being.  
Like I said, clamped down so tightly is my tension that my esophagus lets not a thing out nor in.