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by: Andy Lyman
I punctured my belly on the head of an exposed nail today. It was sticking halfway out of the drywall at the base of the stairs. I stumbled on the last step and fell onto it; punched a hole right in me. When I pulled myself off of it, thick black blood poured out of the new opening in my body. I could smell my insides. They smelled like my lunch. I started to vomit. I threw up all over the wall. Some of it ran down my face, down my chest, and into the hole in my stomach. It burned really bad. I ripped the hole open even further in a panicked attempt to clean it out. My hands were covered in blood and vomit. My pants were soaked. I reached into me and scooped out some of my flesh. I held it up and examined it. It didn’t look like anything really; just a mess, just a mass. I put it into my mouth. I just let it sit there at first; contemplating the flavor. It tasted like meat. It was meat. I am meat. I chewed and swallowed it. It would pass by the spot it had been removed from on its journey back through me. I plodded back up the stairs and went to bed. I felt so tired. I immediately fell asleep.
I dreamt that a snake had laid eggs inside me. Making my intestines into a nest. The eggs eventually hatched and seven tiny snake babies came slithering out from my stomach. It made me proud. I felt what I imagine it must feel like to be a mother. My little darlings. They responded to my call and followed the source of my voice all the way down into my lungs. They settled down and made a home there. I will keep them safe always. Tomorrow I will quit smoking. For you my dears.
The smell is unbearable. My eyes burn. My ears are ringing. The blood has dried and the sheets are now stuck to my skin. Since removal of the sheets is out of the question, I will remove my skin, like my children. They grow so quickly. Their dried, cast-off skins fill the inside of my lungs. It hurts to breathe. I peel my skin off starting at my toes. It comes off easily; like clothing. I hold it up in front of me, fingering the hole in the abdomen. I can see right through it. I toss it over the edge of my bed. I want to go downstairs and make some breakfast, but my babies are unhappy about something and start to bite the inside of my lungs. They spit their venom deep into my capillaries. I breathe their poison. I collapse on the floor; blood falling out of my body. My seven children come sliding out through my mouth. Like rats from a sinking ship, they know it’s time to move on.
I punctured my belly on the head of an exposed nail today. It was sticking halfway out of the drywall at the base of the stairs. I stumbled on the last step and fell onto it; punched a hole right in me. When I pulled myself off of it, thick black blood poured out of the new opening in my body. I could smell my insides. They smelled like my lunch. I started to vomit. I threw up all over the wall. Some of it ran down my face, down my chest, and into the hole in my stomach. It burned really bad. I ripped the hole open even further in a panicked attempt to clean it out. My hands were covered in blood and vomit. My pants were soaked. I reached into me and scooped out some of my flesh. I held it up and examined it. It didn’t look like anything really; just a mess, just a mass. I put it into my mouth. I just let it sit there at first; contemplating the flavor. It tasted like meat. It was meat. I am meat. I chewed and swallowed it. It would pass by the spot it had been removed from on its journey back through me. I plodded back up the stairs and went to bed. I felt so tired. I immediately fell asleep.
I dreamt that a snake had laid eggs inside me. Making my intestines into a nest. The eggs eventually hatched and seven tiny snake babies came slithering out from my stomach. It made me proud. I felt what I imagine it must feel like to be a mother. My little darlings. They responded to my call and followed the source of my voice all the way down into my lungs. They settled down and made a home there. I will keep them safe always. Tomorrow I will quit smoking. For you my dears.
The smell is unbearable. My eyes burn. My ears are ringing. The blood has dried and the sheets are now stuck to my skin. Since removal of the sheets is out of the question, I will remove my skin, like my children. They grow so quickly. Their dried, cast-off skins fill the inside of my lungs. It hurts to breathe. I peel my skin off starting at my toes. It comes off easily; like clothing. I hold it up in front of me, fingering the hole in the abdomen. I can see right through it. I toss it over the edge of my bed. I want to go downstairs and make some breakfast, but my babies are unhappy about something and start to bite the inside of my lungs. They spit their venom deep into my capillaries. I breathe their poison. I collapse on the floor; blood falling out of my body. My seven children come sliding out through my mouth. Like rats from a sinking ship, they know it’s time to move on.
posted by Al Truism at 6:01 PM
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