American Chaotic The Contortionist
This addiction to entangled limbs and grotesqueries of nature,
Has poisoned him, legs wrapped 'round head,
Yearning for an eternal fixture.
Such a bittersweet claustrophobia,
No interest in seeking a door.
"Imprison me, fuel my voracity.
Oh god, leave me hungering for more."
Locked in a box.
"I've twisted myself to such perverse positions,
Desperate to find unfulfilled provisions,
Cramming my body into the space that confines me."
"Son of Adam, this feeling forever defines thee."
With this, you taunt.