A summers day ...we're floating and bloating ..you and i
we're bloating and a floating and waving as we cry ...
we're crying as we're floating and a cloud is passing by
I ask it "are you gloating ? " at my bloating friend and i ?

"Dear sir" replied the cloud that was a floating up on high
I see so many bloaters and so many as they try..
to understand the nature of a floater floating by ?
Is such a wonderous thing and now.. i bid you sir "goodbye" !

A moonlit night we're floating and bloating you and i
We pass the moon the stars all swoon.."good evening" as we cry..
And as we float the endless sky..and never knowing why ?
we're floating and a bloating ...floating you and i

Sciatica pain home remedy work outs doesn't have to be specially difficult to be handy. Typically, they are often carried out efficiently both at home and can frequently decrease or take away the desire for qualified care. No matter if made use of alone maybe in addition for expert varieties of care, basic sciatic nerve sensation problems soreness physical exercises along with self-care strategies may result in the distinction between getting better and also continuous discomfort.

Sciatic sensation problems tenderness is normally brought on through destruction of one or two intervertebral disks in the lower back. A cds will be the delicate shocks sandwiched relating to the vertebrae. If more than one drives is broken sufficiently to project on the passageways where the sensation problems offices which from the sciatic sensation problems leave your spinal column, a nervous feelings can get annoyed. Inflammation with the slipped backbone dvd could also induce swelling and this bloating may well deliver added sensors tenderness. The particular ensuing lack of feeling irritation creates the discomfort along with other signs and symptoms that take a trip into your buttock spot and leg we know of when sciatica pain.

The main results of almost all excellent sciatic pain treatment at home work outs will be to "squeeze" a stuffed intervertebral disc product out from the inflamed anxious feelings (as is accomplished by way of the actual McKenzie off shoot treatment method workouts outlined after) and/or minimize the accumulation connected with water from swelling (which can be done by light aerobic fitness exercise similar to diving or strolling). The following reduction in retention from the lack of feeling root by means of lessened intervertebral blank disc protruding in addition to bloating ordinarily gives quickly relief of symptoms. With duplicated utilization of your property procedure exercises more than a length of a few days, also resilient cases usually find symptom relief in time and constant leveling from the lumbar blank disc wall could happen to control the risk of reinjury. As being the intervertebral disk stabilizes, prolonged relief of pain may be the outcome.

Among the most popular of the sciatic nerve neural soreness work outs would be the above mentioned McKenzie extendable technique, and that is much like a "cobra" place around yoga and fitness. The thought is usually that backward bending on the spine carefully crushes this gel-like chemical within the actual intervertebral dvd onward as well as away from the nerve fibres that leave sciatic neural discomfort.

In combination with sciatic nerve lack of feeling signs or symptoms house exercises, there are actually further more approaches which can be employed to decrease sciatic nerve neurological soreness as well as pain. Employing ice cubes (segregated in the epidermis that has a skinny level of fabric to avoid snow nip) pertaining to 8 to 10 minutes each time up to each couple of hours will most likely ease swelling plus puffiness all-around nerves considerably better than even the more effective anti-inflammatory drugs. Acupressure in addition to self applied restorative massage can even be useful for lessening inflammatory bloating within the back nerves plus reduce hurtful signs and symptoms. The actual decrease in inflammation created by these additional styles of self-care enhance the negative effects of the particular sciatic nerve sensors pain property workouts.

Using duplicated using exercises and extra sciatica self-care solutions, high-priced in addition to time-consuming expert treatment method, unpleasant unwanted effects out of supplements and also obtrusive needles and operations can easily commonly always be definitely avoided. By simply starting to learn on what sciatic nerve sensors house routines and also self-administered therapies to utilize and just what to not utilize, you'll be able to take part in your very own rehabilitation and stop any recurrence on the sciatic nerve pain sooner or later.

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ice creams, cakes and açaí bowls
fried food like fries and many more,
my palate can’t seem to get enough of these
scrumptious delights.

momentary joy and everlasting guilt,
I struggle to keep myself awake with these horrible thoughts.

my waist, my thighs have grown to be
superlatively unattractive and
ugly.
my heart is twisted dry

how can I find solace in a world which values body

much less belly bloating

Under this whimsical sky
Leaning at the feet of a huge tree
With my pen ready to scribble
The words that needs to be,
Written!
The bloating thoughts that eat
My soul like a parasite
Has spread to my physical being
Hoping for a peak of light
But the cure has suppressed
Unfortunately!
I know I am not alone in this
This epidemic has spread wide
A countless antidote taken to ease
Leaving the waves kiss the shore
Without a high tide
Timelessly!
Fighting the demons that has infested
Inside my heart and mind
Burning their tails and horns to ignite
The very light, that I am to find
Hopefully!
I'll fade like ashes oneday
Blown bits of me in the atmosphere
Learning about me someday
You'd wish I was still here
Repentance!


©sim

Elusive, mystifying, soft wind sighing,
No stomachs bloating, no children wailing,
No souls sailing,
No fathers beating, no mothers screaming,
Ever dreaming,
Perfect world,
Dreamland.

Satisfying, clear water flowing, clean air blowing,
No tainted blood, no children missing,
No killers hissing,
No hate-torn lands, no bombs blasting,
Peace everlasting,
Perfect world,
Dreamland.

Death defying, careless breeders, self-serving leaders,
Power plays, strategic dancing,
All life chancing,
Ultimate pact, malevolent mushroom clouds,
Vaporized crowds,
Perfect world....

The writer is

                                                             ­ bound by the Oedipus
                                          cauldron stewing          can't relax

                          --all women are mine--
                                                          ­       but this doesn't stop the bloating bubbles.

                     But the writer did not invent Wonderlandia
               --no double-sided tape or wrong number or sloppy poetics.

                              Wonderlandia was born from the ***** of the stars
                                                         --our fathers,
                              and the void of space,
                                                     --our mother's womb.
the writer

                                             was busy staring at the girls that walked by
                                        ditch diggers for renovations on Euphoria.
                The hippies are disappointed in this current Wonderlandia,
   or they would be.

                               Their dreams had dirt in the mud,
                they walked upon.                Our Woodstock
                                                       ­         is celebrity interviews,
                                                     ­           reservations failing,
                                                        ­        political satires--the last ring of change
             sold at five cents a word. Period.

the writer
                                        says it understands and writes:
                      "Sticks shaped from elitism
                        rare.
                        Usually a vibe too brittle,
                        breaking in battle.
                        The bass thundered robins.
                        The snare's firearm stabled the swift,
                        electrifying beat.
                        The brass was addiction
                        to the crowd's ears.
                        All before the elitism was born,
                        a symphony was constructed in the drug's head."

the writer
                                knows about D. A. Levy and his revolution,
                  we all felt that voice, so the writer replies:
                               "Did you hear about the John Lennon poser
                                 waving his gun on TV?
                                 While listening to the Beatles, you
                                 sit and watch the vagabond cry.
                                 He says, "Counter-culture is dead, entombed
                                 in a metal casket.
                                 We need a new flame. Those watching TV
                                 get your hands out of the basket."

the writer
                                        walks with grandma Alice
                                       by lakes,
                                                       thrilling dementia
                                    "Don't tell me what taurine
                                      and caffeine can do to my heart.
                                      I can have alligators in my rib meat
                                      eating away at bone marrow.

                                      High? That's your question?
                                      Hi...I am a float
                                      in a useless pond
                                      bordered by malnourished trees.

                                      By the love of hell you better not
                                      fertilize those ****** trees
                                      because if I die
                                      the alligator of my ribs
                                      will dine and take your ****
                                      girlfriend straight to the vet.
                                      I thank you for asking though."

    the writer misses
                                 the syrup in the tree completely
              
                     I am not your beatnik
                                or future idol--burn your 1970's classrooms away.

When I saw her for the first time it wasn't admiration
It was awe mixed with a twinge of jealousy
Her perfection and her confidence intimidated me

When I first befriended her it wasn't just adoration
It was an obsession and a fixation
To be like her in thought and action
Till I learnt to be better than her without being enough
That was when the insecurity started
'Will I ever be enough?'

I wasn't enough at home, not fair enough or smart enough
I wasn't witty or flirtatious enough
I lacked guts and I lacked the temperament
Of a proper twelve-year-old.
I was a doormat and a pushover
Already coming undone at my seams
Trying to emulate perfection through blinded eyes
Every day I scoffed and surrendered to my picture of admiration
Trying to secure her own admission
'Will I ever be enough?'

Then she left me battling my own wars
Hers was to conquer new turfs.
I waited for a while, finally realizing
I was a ship without a captain, left to wander evermore.
I caught a new captain in a bystander who counted his lucky stars
I admired him for being there for me when I never was.
I tried to hold on to an unconsolidated bond of friendship
With a raging doubt piercing through my heart
'Will I ever be enough?'

Many came telling me my worth.
Many left ravaging my already battered heart
Many drank my colourless lifeless blood
Many left a wretched bluish mark
I shrivelled from the inside out
Bloating in the nausea of my being
Every day trying to put me together
Every day losing instead of winning.
One day finally I reached out
Knowing my salvation lies
I put everything behind me and cried out
Only to be put on the side.

That day I realized my worth
When she was hurt by my rejection
When she refused to give me a chance
When I had never received any ever.
My insecurities still lingered
But they were a part of me now
And I did not know how to do without.
I picked up the pieces that meant something to me
Even though she was no more there to see
Yet I knew that she was never enough
Never my horizon, never my turf
I had wings to reach farther
And my flight has thus
Now begun without her.

(c) Anavah 2018

You look in the mirror and know bloating is your enemy
You have people tell you, you are too flat
You are not skinny, you are not fat
When food can be your frenemy

You put in all this work
You have people tell you it will never be enough
You are not strong, you are not weak
When your body can call your bluff

You always try and stick to the rules
You have people tell you that you could do better and include this and that
You are not memorable, you are not forgetful
When your diet looks like something you do not get at

1.
there's a gun in your hand that doesn't belong there, a windmill where your heart should be
painting on the inside of someone else's skull screaming "i don't give a ****"
did your voice break? OH MY GOD YOU DISEASE
YOU GREAT UNDERESTIMATER, YOU FILTH
THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU TURN A PERSON INTO A JACK-O-LANTERN
scooping out seeds for your masters degree
"new advances in science every day" can you smell the ink drying on the back of your wrist
ghost stories arent the same thing as ghosts
"why do hospitals think white is calming" and other laments
sorry, i mean bulletholes
sorry, i mean manmade caverns, tunnels built for metal to crawl its way out of membrane
question: what kind of science experiment requires a human corpse
answer:
answer:
answer:
you will never understand the answer to this question.you will never understand why someone stands up in their seat, screaming "i don't give a ****"
its raining outside.its raining outside.seven of your family members are lying in trash heaps,limbs discarded
and you don't know this yet
but it wasn't my fault.it wasn't me this time (stop looking at me like that
tail clenched tight between your teeth
you smell like a swamp,oh god)
choking to death on someone else's blood: typical.you're a cliche
this has happened before, hasn't it?we were murdered before,
but you don't remember that, or you do but youre pretending not to.tend to
your wounds, lick the blood.
papercuts are a gateway drug
you used to be something pretty.shiny and unkempt,
pretty and a ***** kinda clean:i wanna rip my own throat out
carve triangles in the pit of my stomach so
at least part of me will know how to smile.
clawing at yr eyes like itll make the flies go away
its in their nature
god,what kind of monster are you
what kind of beast.
everything you know up in flames:wither
do you know how fast human bodies decay?welcome to wormfood.welcome to paradise
coughing up tar and feathers "you came prepared"
for what?for an execution?happy doomsday
punch the wall.rub your knuckles.try again
make it bruise
****** and mangled, paint chips cutting off your circulation
YOU JUST NEVER KNOW WHEN TO QUIT DO YOU
youre so kind.thanks for everything,thanks for
the hollow chest,thanks for
****** fists
(you knew this would happen eventually
can you even take a punch?can you even take a punch?)
severed conscience, or whatever it was.
"No One Will Miss You Anyway"
is that what theyre saying?
your nailbeds are sticky
soda and something sweeter and dirt
you had so much to live for,until you didn't
(isnt that what they all say?god,youre such a cliche.)
found dead or dying,isnt that how it goes
no one just drowns
"we have reason to believe--"
you can hear every star dying,all at once
kneeling in front of a toilet that starting to look a lot like you
theres a gun in your lap and a bullet in your head and you dont know which one to trust
this isnt your fault.this isnt your fault.
clean yourself up,god youre disgusting.
how to say your name without choking on it
holding hands with a girl you never met
isnt this what its supposed to feel like?arent you supposed to feel full?
emptiness is your native language.the hollow space in your body echoes back at you
chimneysweep swallowing dust clouds,brushing their teeth with acid and magellanic galaxies
JUST STOP, SHUT YOUR MOUTH, GOD IM TIRED LISTENING TO THE SOUND OF YOUR SCREAMS
paranoia is smooth, blurry around the edges:
its not your fault you couldn't meet a deadline.

2.
war in your sheets and the soft folds of your belly
(and in the soles of your feet
i feel rough ground, rocks pricking into your skin
do you smell blood?)
not quite human, but vampires havent scared you for years
"**** me dry" can you taste it yet, can you feel the fear crawling up out of your stomach
your throat is so empty, a cavern without bats
stalactite secrecy pooling at your feet: this is what it feels like to be alone
sorry about the mess we made
sorry about the paint on the walls
scrubbing glitter into your arms,rubbing skin raw and red
arent you pretty? arent you pretty?
tombs cracking, mausoleums wishing for more graves to dig
havent you robbed enough for one lifetime
write eulogies for people who havent died yet,this is your calling
arent you pretty?
WHITE NOISE ON REPEAT, 10 HOURS
boxed wine stinking up the trunk of your car
(well,that and something else)
dont feel sorry for me darling
you say my name like it’s killing you,and maybe it is
thanks for the flowers and the card,what kind of greek tragedy is this
are you tired? are you tired?
what a spectacle
you,lying on a bed that doesnt belong to you,dying without permission(How Rude!)
dionysian struggle,and look,now the wine’s spilt over everything
i told you this would happen
what a pretty train wreck you are!2:30 am,still alive,
god youre bleeding on everything,how rude.how rude.
heart cut out and beating three thousand miles away under your mothers bed
oh,sweetheart
YOU KNEW IT WOULD END LIKE THIS,dissociating,can you feel the earth bend away from you?
what a demon
crust,mantle,core,screaming at the sight of you
when was the last time you believed in magic,hands on thighs
walls of the abandoned building screaming back in your face
(“i don’t give a ****” like someone can hear you
like someone cares enough to listen)
a broken Bic lighter/someone else’s EpiPen/a ****** handkerchief, shoved in the pocket of a jacket you dont remember buying.
wrapped up like holy things and you think maybe they were one time
“******* with no end” god youre so cool arent you?how edgy,how punk.how grotesque, the mess on your hands.
shouting your **** streak in the dead of night
is that supposed to impress us?are you putting on a show?Holy Prophet
here to forgive your sins
a woman sitting across from you is bleeding and you imagine swallowing her hands whole
“just let them win this time” how sweet of you,how kind!
this isnt my fault.this isnt my fault.
im just a corpse,remember?i hope you regret every part of this
i hope you choke on her fingers and i hope you die
MY GOD IT MAKES ME LAUGH
painted in the image of god:how funny.how sweet.what a nice thought
you called me a weapon like it was supposed to mean something
like it ever did

3.
mistaken king centuries old stepping on Holy feet
(can you see him?pressed up against the grass trying to disappear
god, what a ******* poseur)
frostbite kissing you,what a nice sentiment
crying with joy as it curls around you
“you just gotta be numb to it, you know?”
please marry me, oh god, i’m in love with you
my heart beats thirty feet out of my chest when im around you (that’s what love means, right)
you feel it ripping you apart,glory
smell stardust in the air and then stomp it out
it never mattered that much anyway,or at least that’s what
you tell yourself
you move like it’s your death wish, like “better here than somewhere else”, like
they taught you how to bleed in all
the right ways.on cue. on cue.
broken telephone wires/that Bic lighter, again/a pile of pumpkin seeds digging
into the palm of your hand
How To Cauterize An Open Wound
torn skin, and blood, and maybe some of your intestines, too
stick knives in your stomach(look, we match!)
there’s still a gun in your hand and it’s smoking and you don’t remember firing it (but that’s
okay, isn’t it? this has to be okay)
you built a shipyard in your ribcage,sent sailors off
to die in your throat
choking on a swarm of ******* bees
youre so cool arent you?youre so cool arent you?
you feel the ***** coming up ten years before it actually does, feel your stomach
bloating,the stench of it all
terrariums bleeding onto the streets, how ugly.what a putrid sight.
youre missing teeth,mouth gaping open
stubbed and ****** where nothing new ever grew in,
don’t know know that hate breeds hate
precious metals ooze off your tongue, join the parade! fall into
a stupor,
collect your wits and die,just die.
“i’m sorry for your loss” written on twenty different greeting cards, did you
think i wouldnt know it was you?
i bruise so easily and you know this, even with a gun breathing heavy against your ribcage.lace spiderwebs
around your neck and pull them tight this time
lighting fires with one hand,putting them out
with the other
YOU’RE SUCH A ******* MARTYR
YOU GRANDIOSE *******
your shoes are too tight, your toes are turning blue,
and i’m still in love with you even though
i don’t even know who you are anymore
god, im a cliche
does that make you happy?
god, i hope it does
you tell me, “poems are supposed to have a rhythm”
smiling like i just said something funny
i’m sorry about the dead flowers.im sorry about that night in the living room.
sorry for the things i said.
the feeling of being in motion/radiation vibrating across your tongue/a handful of snow
listen to the church choir singing--
in. out. dead. it wasnt your-slash-my fault
you say it outloud:
“your-slash-my”, the only way you can tether yourself
to something else.
someone is digging into the small of your back (ill
give you a hint:its me)
can you feel the talons? you take off your clothes, press
your body to the concrete
let the frost build on your spine,your fingers,your
legs
kiss the spool of ants where your ear used to be
swallow hard.
o, songbird! o, thrush!
the mellow winter calling (your mouth
curves around the word vociferous like you cant breathe without it--
this was always my favorite part)
“who told you the ending” and you say
god,  i just knew.
holy, holy, holy, swept off the palm of your hand like dust
rusty spoons and nails And Other Artifacts pooling at your feet
***** with revenge, or desire, or both.
[ SEVEN HOLLOW CHAPELS SINGING ABOUT LONELINESS ]
dont bury this too.not the bibelots, not the science experiments, not the smoking gun
carving itself into your palm
you will forget the ships on the horizon, the feel of someone else’s stomach beneath your hands, your tongue, your skin.
all these things, too: she said.