the can of worms I've opened
have done what they do best
by irrigating the soil
for the seed of doubt
of sickness and mistrust
the seed that's taken root
deep in my empty stomach
feeding bile to my brain

this poisonous fruition
oh, how it blossoms
from the inside out
growing like a parasite
terminally affected
feeding upon everything
leaving nothing but a husk
full of tunnels carved by worms