Dirty Sunday

Vomit

One of those mornings I’m
Not seeing straight, my head wound on to my
Neck too tight, bent forward spring loaded my
Feelings screwed in the wrong way
This morning there is a bruise being reinforced on my
Forearm, on my knuckle where
It’s been resting against the toilet bowl where
It’s been scraping against my two front teeth, fingers
Shoved so far down my throat I’m massaging
My insides crouched here again this
Morning, one long pale arm wrapped around the bowl. Funny
I felt so light
Last night at peace with me, with life with the
Gargle of my
Belly, hands resting against my hip bones enjoying
the spaces I’d created by my will
Alone. It’s going to hurt when
I stand up again, my legs are dead
Jelly and water time just stops
Sometimes. I’m trying not to notice my bulbous
Stomach, I’ll watch the light play on the wooden floor
Instead. Slump back and
Wipe the evidence from my flushed face, guilty
Failure. Blow my nose and stand
Unsteady I wash my hands and wipe my eyes, they’ve been
Weeping on their own again dizzy with that
Sweet nothing
Feeling, give it a minute for the sticky sour stink to melt
And creep away

Author's Note

Makes me sad how long ago this was written

Reviews

[ChemicalMadness]

so very raw...it takes a lot to bring these feelings to the surface and to share them so eloquently...i have to wonder if you were meant to help others in life....i feel pretty strongly that you are. Powerful write, Mal....

CM

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

This was a powerful write... The imagery was gritty, raw, and real; honest. I praise the honesty here, because the most important thing we can do for ourselves is shine the light on the things that are normally kept in the shadows. There is a surreal feeling to this, but on a whole, the tangible aspects win out, because I can see that person fighting with their demons, tearing themself apart, and it is chillingly close and real. A stark write indeed.

[h d e rushin]

you covered all the bases of grief, personal damnation, self loathing, body image dysphoria, everything
spilled out like the contents of a stomach on a white couch. But yet at the end, you became so mortal.
earthborn, driven by earthy images; sorrow, emptiness, "that sweet nothing feeling"/

I like this write. sometimes long ago implies some tangible personal gratification...it's called living.

dana
"

[Joiedevivre]

I so get this, really good job, you got the essence.

[Kenneth The Poet]

Wow.

[...]

i thought only i had those eyes
and that feeling
you are brave,
so brave

and an absolutely brilliant poet

[Searching 4 Serenity]

Engorge, bulimia, gluttony... Over indulgence on food is just as wrong as anything else and you show that very well in this poem.

[JimmyFlux]

So effective in its vileness. Personal feelings of self-loathing were propelled back to the surface throughout. This holds a jagged mirror to my own past. Nauseatingly convincing.

[Joiedevivre]

Brilliant! So feel this.