Cobras are in your veins, pink mist like brains on a battlefield, snapping teeth of wild dogs foaming at the mouth. Slick tendrils for fingers all over you and in you, outside the puma and spotted coyote both howl and the permanent clouds explode with sizzling blue rain, an owl on a branch with Satan digging for blood roots and nightcrawlers below. A red squirrel with clouded eyes speaking a deceased language, neon green chemicals and red-hot coals in the fire, a ceiling of smoke and each lash and flash of lightning is like a volcanic tongue from a whores hot mouth.
You are what doesn't breathe, butchered heart still beating like a small leather drum, gloomy mishappen skulls on the walls, slicing nerves and lacerated skin, dreams within dreams, the chimes and scalpel don't stop, whispering voices waiting for you to command them, the bones on the floor, bare feet, a small demon in the corner pleasuring itself, painted faces spit white powder in your face, your nose burns, reaching through the smoky haze of an infirmary, feels like cholera, a strange, cruel and contorted figurine on the windowsill, a lady priest with blonde hair convulsing in a hospital bed, some exotic influenza in the air, charred and blackened bodies in white sheets with dark red splotches on them, a praying nurse and flock of petite nuns, a plague of silk-spiderwebs cover an old amber desk, the wood looks like melting marrow. Body like a pile of brittle sticks, your indiscreet chest trying to rise like the organ red sun, purple and yellow bruises on your half-torn torso, your liver, kidneys and gall bladder in a metal bowl, the narrow halls like a maze in a funeral parlor, cold steel morgue, the sick-room smaller, taste of sawdust in your throat, sulfur, ether and a chalky face, ape-like and frozen, the horde of greasy black rats won't even eat you, can't move, can't speak.