My esophagus.

Eyes salted with the blurs of drops…
    its corners moist from charcoal smudge.
Oozing mucus sliming down my impenetrable nostrils;
        1..2..3.. heave! 1..2..3.. heave!

A platter of clumpy chunks change the colour of clean, innocent water,
    Saliva snakes down my trembling chin and sessile forearm.

Bits of gunk intertwine with my fingers, clinging to the skin of fire.
    It’s like a lock and key fit, but more irresistible.
My digits charge back into the trembling black hole waiting for the cue of burping flaws.
        1..2..3.. heave! 1..2..3.. heave!


                What such pity satisfaction of the successful vacancy.        

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