23.12.08

Bile

I want to throw up

Regurgitate

Every morsel

And taste it again

To feel the bile

As it rests in my mouth

Lazily

As though it is home

My tongue flutters over it

Like a curtain

The insides of the cheeks are walls

So thin

I can hear the bile as it dances

A solo dance

And then rises

To touch the upper palate

Hoping to cling


I open my mouth

Pour water

It is all liquid

Falling out


There is a moment of remorse

And desolation

It happens when you lose

Even loose change that clinks

In your pocket

It happens when you lose

Torn socks you would never wear

It happens when you lose

A part of yourself

It happens when you think you have lost

A paper in the garbage


I rummage through it

Scrawled words

Blood

Enter my veins

The page is now blank

I can start again


~FV

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

Hey , I know the image next to your photo - it's a painted hand, made to look like a leopard , done by someone ( Italian , I think) who paints animal figures on hands. Am I right ?

kb said...

Welcome back after a big break.Next time keep it short!Hope,you can start again as you write,with same power

FV said...

Anon:

I had it on file and used it...who knows even the blogger pic could be hand...or a sleight of hand...or the hand of god...

KB:

Thanks...yes, the short end of the stick next time!

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