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

[Rene Velez]

cool poem good word play, i caught a image of smoking weed on a sunday, lol, or even something else, anyway it reminded me of these youtube videos i was watching about people using salvia, not that i think using drugs is cool, why do i feel like i have to wash my hands?

[JustNeedToBeHappy]

Again, f****n nailed it. It's like when you look in the mirror a second after hurling and seeing yourself ugly and sick and thinking "This'll make me beautiful, it hurts so f****n much." You've really got it, it's fantastic.

[Letemdangle]

Debauchery should be the title here. Funny I too have felt those ways, but I don't vomit anymore, I absorb it. Hard to make something so awful have an artful side to it. Somehow you do it well.