Souring
By Queazenart
I didn't get up with the alarm this morning.
I stayed in bed
and listened
to my guts
rumble and roll.
Peristalsis vibrations
The clinking of glass
in my abdomen
making me sick.
Stones in the stomach
grinding the feeling
into a fine paste
to regurgitate
and chew on
cyclically.
Yesterday curdles within me,
souring internally.
When I finally get home
I will attempt to return to sleep
where my mind isn't racing
and my stomach isn't turning
And hope I don't have any more dreams.
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Copyright 2020 Queazenart
Comments on "Souring"
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On Saturday, July 18, 2020, Anna McCarra
(357) wrote:
I love how you wrote this -- the metaphor is perfect, very fitting. And I can relate.