I still feel him in my viscera, deep down in the black tarry
pit of my gut where acids break down bits of food meant to absorb liquor.
Deep down in the darkest pit there is.
Pain too
tremendous to rise above carves a primitive hole in a primitive area. Guttural
noises pierce through static.
Head like a snare drum and a billion nerves scream in
unison. Bruises everywhere! Livid, swollen flesh murmurs a secret to nervous
fingers as they flutter by.
To touch this injured flesh would be to sin against it. Be
kind to yourself for once.
