Tales of Torture Vol. IV

Is the journey worth the end result?  
The summit is blinding and the earning is slavery.  
More confliction than I can exult,  
to stomach the binding, and yearn for the savory.  
Why does my throat forget how to gulp?  
How worried I am to see the well dry.  
The things I wrote of releasing the pulp,  
leave my cock aching, and leave fingers wry.  
When the addict is hooked and the juice is loose,  
the path be trodden with the sick man’s foot.  
My sack will be cooked and so will my goose,  
and my soul’s fire shall leave a heart of soot.