Beneath the charred and crusted flakes of skin, a fetid consumption invades. Devouring vital, surging flesh, rendering choking bile and gushing pain, oozing from copious, savage tears. Scouring within boiled burning the frenzied fever rushes writhe in twitch and scream. Twisted in agonizing knots over pools of bloody ruin, spilling, splattering. Mired in the filth of excess, the stink clings and saturates. Hanging and beading like delicate droplets, the piss vile liquid smell of wasted life dwindles as the meat of essence is their feast. Disillusioned, shattered, mired, erased. The thick, gloppy resin of putrid decay sinks into every pore, closing out the light, stopping the clock forever. Gushing foul vomit and the effusive fluid of death, the punctured, eviscerated body is left for the maggots. The carrion of progress is chum for the feast of lies.