Long Live
the King
You know
there’s something wrong with you when you’re kneeling in front of the porcelain
throne in the middle of the night. Kneeling there, praying and trying to get it
all out, get all those black, smelly fluids out of your System. That poison
that’s slowly liquefying your insides and gnawing at your very soul.
And now
it’s time. You close your eyes and embrace the inevitable. You open your mouth;
you breathe in that cool, purified and cleaned air; your grip tightens around
that cold, smooth surface; you feel your stomach convulsing, trying to turn
inside out.
Now’s the
moment you feared. Now’s the moment you longed for.
You know
that all that pain will go away, all that poison will be washed out into some
far away ocean. You bend over. Now’s the time to get it all out.
Nothing.
Nothing
gets out, but hot, foul tasting air.
Warm tears
run down your cheeks. You’ve lost the fight. Slowly you get up on your feet,
trembling. You walk over to your bed as another wave of pain washes through your
body.
You lay
down, close your eyes and embrace the inevitable.
Now’s the
moment you feared. Now’s the moment you longed for. A last painful convulsion
and you’re out. You feel the cold winter air and you can smell the salt in it
as you make your way to that far away ocean.
[That's the result of being sick and writing at 2:30 am]
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