I can feel it dripping
Down my throat
Like turpentine
Taste it tainting
The water supply
Sometimes it sticks
Festering through my lips
To catch a whiff
At all hours of the day
It sticks to your clothes
Like cigarette smoke
Death
In the floor and the ceiling
Asbestos and mold
Death
Printed as the watermark
On every page
The wriggling tongue
Behind sealed lips
Death
I’ve been carrying death
With me
The most fashionable
Of face piercings
A skin condition
from within
to gradually
Consume all.
