IX

Like shards of smashed glass caught in a throat,
the human chokes on the realization of his own inherit worthlessness. 
Bleeding, torn tissue throbs to purge the glass thorns of his mortal existence.
Beads of sweat form on the skin, weeping tremours descend down the spine,
and the body of man succumbs to anguish. 
He crawls at the base of Severity’s Pillar, like a rat in sewer filth.
Desperate whimpers gurgle through fits of vomited blood, the tide of death and rot drowns the noise.
Under the towering face of the void, Geburah the destroyer is unbalanced from her Mercy.

Soft pink flesh blemishes and is cut, the blood collects.
Brittle fingernails peel around the edges, raking among the dirt and the twigs.
The knees are rubbed raw and seep onto the face of the earth.

Crawl, choke on your glass.