Peptides get confused; the decay of the stomach rises in belches and just plain gas. It mingles with the breath, informing it of 'the problem'; a dialogue procuring a strong smell, a dying smell.
And meanwhile? The ingestion of yet-another artificially sweetened coke, takes place. Corrosion of the villi is imminent. Celiacs is glimpsed through the cracks of my deteriorating gut. And i will persist to harm my self... even with a pathetic hypochondriacal prophecy.