The Awakening of a Corrosive Existence (poem)

The Awakening of a Corrosive Existence Drain eyes, white soup bones, sliced into flesh maggots crawling in my skin. Pus, this fresh body, filled my mind. Arranged to derange the masses. Last sense, to hold facial expressive empowerment. Creation flows in far off placemats, upon the wooden table cloth instead. The eyes again, my friend filled the cup inside out of the way to Shaolin. The end.