The days carry the essence of grand fatigue;
I once knew a good judge of character,
whom the recipients of righteousness
called a friend.  

He collapsed within the fog,
leaving a rare delicacy for me to consume.  
I savored the taste of blatant bitterness,
refusing to regurgitate the morsels
I quickly digested.  

Now I've got this nagging cough
and wheezing in my chest.
The plight of mad science
to taint my good blood cells
with the disease of contaminated cytoplasm.

I am becoming numb
to its brutal effects
and I am frightened.