A stomach eats itself,
Torn apart by hunger and time,
Sizzling in its own acid
And boiling through to feast
On the gracious host.

Blood churns and enzymes bubble,
The liver fights back
With cell regeneration and piss,
A futile battle that will end
In due course.

The kidneys fall like stones into water,
The intestines turn to shit,
The body keels over,
A horizontal stirring pot
Of vitriol and death.

The stomach sucks the air from the lungs,
Pumps the heart dry and yellow,
Gnaws at the ribcage,
A once favoured snack,
And tears away skin with each breath.

The body is a puddle,
Reflecting a still sky,
As the stomach feasts on dirt
And maggots and stray rodents,
Feeding itself to death.


About Paul Carroll

Paul Carroll is a writer, born, raised and still living in Dublin. By day he's a student and bookseller, by night he writes fiction and uses social media.
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