Morning Sickness

i do not feel very good;
i think i am dying.
although i have not vomited,
i think it might be fun.
my world is crisp and rubbery,
dripping with karma and irony,
but my mind is still craving her

beauty.

words and their meaning have been swallowed
by a black mist;
the vortex of deprivation.

longing?

ha!
there is no other thing.
darkness....
imprisoning me....
all that i see....
absolute horror.