(Note: read best aloud in James Donald Forbes McCann‘s accent & cadence – sorry if that’s appropriation)
tonight,
a bird without song
landed on my chest
heavy
a big bird
maybe a childhood wound
yellowed, tarred, and feathered with age
the point is,
there was no song!
let’s not get caught up in the details
I’m sad!!!!
and still,
it’s all a dream
it’s just a dream
& I dream I am free
I’m happy!!
(His last words)
I feel gooey inside
I mean more than usual
I think my insides are melting
something warm is happening in my heart
it’s making a bubble
something’s about to pop
this really doesn’t feel quite right
I think I’m rising from the inside out
the heat supposed to be external
but this is gutting me
tearing me apart
hot bit by bit expanding
and do you see this bulge here?
no! not my stomach!
hoo-hoo!!
don’t poke me at a time like this —
can’t you see I’m in pain?
oh! dire pain!
being wrenched apart
baked wrong side out
surely this isn’t in the directions —
can we trouble shoot?
something’s happening to my throat
the words aren’t
coming out good
no more
ooey gooey heart
hoo-hooo
Okay… so this isn’t the thirstiest. x.x but can you picture that it probably isn’t Mrs. Poppie Fresh Pillsbury Doughboy doing it for him. 😉
You might not need a tall glass of water, but perhaps a cold glass of milk and a hot, soft chocolate chip cookie would satisfy you.
The Halfwit Writer