But it tastes so sweet


There is death in that water
I can smell it.
It reeks its odorous presence
through to my soul and there it

grabs hold,
just around the thinner parts
that aren’t so staunch
against the
terrors all about

What if
questions are just
questions, nothing
more? but soon the
questions turn to
worries turn to
terror turns to
I-can’t leave-the-

But those are just the
little parts,
so I still drink that water.

And here I sit
breathing death
with every waking

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