Bile.
Slipping.
Toxic spewage racing slowly down my throat thick like honey.
Boiling in pools of sandy glass where eyes should be.
Harboring blackness under thin clear panes.
I walk across fearing one day my panes will crack.
Fearing my panes will break and venom will make its way down my face and destroy my mouth.
Finding a bigger orifice to inhabit and hide under.
Until it consumes and makes its way down into my heart.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem