EXISTING...MERELY EXISTING!

This salt still comes forth, streaking down my face, parting my lips.
I taste preservation!
Intombed in LIFE...MISERY; cured, encapsulated sorrow!
Did I not pour this salt for you?
Burning opened flesh!
Take me! Devour me! Don't keep me in this state!

"You need to rest longer," the slithering voice whipsers, "I prefer my meat a little on the dry side!"

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