ACiD

Three fingers wrapped around your stomach -

The others in your

throat.

It's all

Acid

And citric words to you.

They open clipboards,

Take notes,

Tell you of conspiracies and

How it's all

An impish trick.

You know it's true.

You cannot be deceived.

You are

The eye of your personal god

Rocking in the corner

Gross idolatry

But comforted

In your strange stranger identity.

It's all too big.

You're enormous.

There's not

Enough space in this little world

For loud, creating you.

Slick finger by finger

Framed by failing livers

And angry little kidneys

You'll crawl back -

And soon the world will be

Infinite enough for

Ever shrinking growing

You.