The chasm
The empty
The vacuous
The void
The void
That grows incessantly
The space
That breaks bounds
The gut wrenching
Sensation that travels up
Up towards your throat
And slips off your tongue.
Tears welling
Hands perspiring
The unthinkable task
Two words
To forever
Negate the three.
It’s over.
Leftovers packed up
Tightly, preventing spillage
No leaks
Sealed off.
Waiting in a cool place
Waiting to be devoured
Decaying
Growing mould
White
Green
Black.
A hollowed stomach
Nothing that will satisfy
The hunger.
