you ever have one of those days where the world not only threatens to open its gaping maw and masticate you to mush but the world does open its gaping maw and sucks you down, kicking, punching, clawing at the spongy flesh of the world’s ribbed, greasy gullet, desperate to maintain your balance, but no, the world ain’t having that shit and the world gulps real big-like and forces you on your merry way and you come to rest in the world’s first belly, though it doesn’t look like any belly you’ve been in before but like a cardboard box sealed all around with camouflaged duct tape, belly juices a pool of moldy blue jello, other folks the world has swallowed today all around you, mad, lost, ill-prepared, and then that gooey gut shifts and you’re sliding again, getting pushed down a hole in the corner and fllffp! you’re plopped right into the world’s second belly and it’s like a party from 1977 up in there, disco ball strung by ligaments, reflecting rays from bio-luminescent nodules and you feel your skin peeling away, digested by the world, this ol’ hungry world, this grand ol’ hungry world whose second belly is an echo chamber of life’s pulsations, which induce in you gyrations you can’t control and though your ears are sliding from your head the world’s rhythms pound pound pound through you like a jackjackjackhammer and you try to find some respite from what’s beating and you lose your footing, slip and yes, you’re sliding again, sliding to belly number three and the silence there brings tears to your eyes which parade down your skinless face stinging something fierce, prompting you to cuss out loud but your tongue falls out on the white floor in front of you and then the rest of your soft, luscious, tender, fresh, juicy, tight, hot body sloughs off your skeleton and though you’d like to think, “dammit all to hell,” your brain just liquefied so that thought’s spreading all over the floor and you’re a walking model of bony absolution tiptoeing around this vast white belly with the other osteopariahs until you lose all volition and tumble into a perfectly-placed hole, waiting just for you, expressway to belly four, and what are you now but a pile of bones pretending you’re human and that’s all right, that’s ok, that’s all anything is in the fourth belly of the world but all too soon your calcified existence also breaks down because the world needs nutrition, the world needs three square meals a day, and the world doesn’t know the meaning of the phrase “one of those days.”
Just one question?
How do you do it day after day. Always profound!
LikeLike
Steady diet of cookies and crack rock. π
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh well that explains it !
LikeLike
Any hope for one on a diet of pop rocks and cloves? π Excellent piece today. I’d love to read it in your honor at an open mic this Friday.
LikeLike
Shit yeah! Please do and grab some video if you can. I’d love to see how you interpret it.
LikeLike
Excellent! I’ll see what I can do π
LikeLike
I was only able to capture audio, but I hope you like it. Thought the irony of reading it as Frank Underwood would be appreciated by you π
LikeLiked by 2 people
Like x 1,000,000! I say, how ever did you manage to stay in character?
LikeLike
I say, I say, I say, it was really rather difficult, and broke character several times the first time I practiced! π Glad you like it!!!!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Great piece, thanks for following my blog.
LikeLike
Thanks for the follow. I enjoy yer blog.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Omggggg exhausted but brilliant lol
LikeLiked by 1 person
does take a bit of stamina to plunder through. π thank you for stopping by and lending your eyes.
LikeLike
[…] jennis5309 on Weight Watchers […]
LikeLike