
If only I could puke me out.
When I was done carving out my insides
I’d watch the ugly colorless excrement squirm on the floor.
______________________________________________________________________________
No need to kill it.
It’ll just die starving, waiting for nourishment like a newborn
– reaching out for hands.
______________________________________________________________________________
We’re all put off by our own vomit,
so I turn my back on it
because I’m clean now. I am.
______________________________________________________________________________
But wait,
a familiar acidic sting touches the back of my throat
– runs its fingers down my tongue.
______________________________________________________________________________
When I turn around the waste is standing behind me.
“Is something wrong?” it asks
– a foul smile forming on its face.
______________________________________________________________________________
And before I can answer I’m puking again.
My blood vessels burst all at once like a firecracker
And the lights go out for me too.
