Rending Aphthous Fevers

[COMMENTARY:] Four aphthas on my laringeal tissue, brown flowers decorating my throat. I can't talk, I can't breathe, I CAN'T DIE... EVEN IF I'M WISHING IT. I can't smile, I can't move, I CAN'T DIE... EVEN IF I'M WISHING IT. I can't drink, I can't sleep, I CAN'T DIE... EVEN IF I'M WISHING IT. I can't eat, I can't think. Paralysed by pain, eyes confined to always the same, always the same wall. Discovering the limits of my endurance, a mountain of hate exploding inside a half inch diameter fever. (The song itself has no words, only growls and vocalized pain)