There is a feeling I get, when I feel that sick ache
In my belly as though it were splitting my gut
There is a taste I get, when I eat wax candy
Like
Yellow jelly-beans and white ones with candy-shells at times
Colorful confections; sometimes, no larger than a dime

Dozens in fistfuls, where the black crow has dined
Perhaps, a thousand or more singular sins
So much so, it flows there, a fountain of wine.

Sicker, I feel, embracing the hour
While it seems to describe itself as painful to swallow
When nothing occurs and my rotten sneer grows
Hating the taste of such behaviors, I know

Nothingness next, but still a sweetened, smile...