The restroom has become restless
gonnorheac diarrhoea ebbs and flows
a green vile dot of vomit bile sits hot on your thigh
appearing smug, seeming like it knows—
why your heart aches with each gastric peristalsis?
From the Outside they knock hardy
unmindful that in doing so they beat down upon your load
Thud! thud! Thud! thud! they goad your commode
to explode, while your thigh corrodes—
lambent puke glows, charades, slowly inflows; you guess why it teases you so.
Like a resin in and out of water, in again and again out,
your brain gyrates and sulcates, pushing the boundaries of your skull
you strain, you grind your teeth down, feet firmly planted you put your legs together
you go impassive, become a hull—
until the toilet bowl is a little less sully, a little more full.
The bouncers shout, as the queue yells
their complaints high, stomachs low, and pants reeking
your head you find in your hands as sanguine-brown clumpy bolus
dribbles solid, scentless, dripping, seeking—
what? the cause? the prevention? the cure?
A green-eyed red-winged insect, colored so for lamination of your filth
alights down on your thigh, mutedly calm, kisses the burn
it stings but it works; you release piss instead of tears, blood in place of piss
your stomach moans, churns—
louder than the knocks and the groans, the grumbles from beyond the door.
You hear only it
You fear only it, your indigestion
Amnesia your old friend in the prick of the red-winged bug
The Outside fit, forgotten, discarded in cashew lotion—
splash! splash! and sploosh!
