A Passionate Spew

I sensed a foul swamp

brewing deep down inside;

my fluids were surging,

my intestines were turning —


A strange gas was climbing,

pushing, rising, and fighting

its way out through me —

I’d do nothing but belch —

I’d belched but so meekly,

so effetely my face showed

with its sour — the taste,

was so rancid.


I’d laid down — I laid down,

and I turned to my side,

and I closed both my eyes;

I had tried, yes I tried.


I leaped — I fucking leaped;

Running, I kicked over the

can — without pause on my

path to the toilet — I spilled,

a landslide — green, brown,

orange, red — a splash hit

back up at my face —

A virtual tsunami — a rarity

most certainly; the outpour

maintained with seemingly

invincible vigor, as my body

continued to punish my brain,

the waves rendered less and

less as the medium thickened

and I dropped to my knees.


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