I forgot your face.
In the melee that followed,
I watched them gut you.

I should have listened to my gut
Felt so sick and starved that I wanted to give up
I just wanted to erupt
My mind went through hiccups
Laughter is my pick up
I promise to listen to my gut

I used to believe I was being responsible when being irresponsible,
I used to hold hope that time had a life for me that was of brilliance and soft petals, because I'd known a hideous child life.
I was wrong.
The flow is off.
The DJ has not played my song.
I am not dealing in fanciful "what if's" any longer.
I kept it at bay.
The loss.
The feeling of it.  Its stench.
Now, it sits firmly in my gut.
Anguishing, as if it too knows its own demise.
Separate, but every bit a part of me.
Back in the day, I remember I used to love myself, despite the hurt.
I wish I knew him, he was a wonderful kid.
His hair used to hang down, covering his eyes.
Shy, but he had hope.
Too bad.

Rigid, ugly, painful intervals of burning in the pores of my skin.
A rough sensation in my heart, I missed her more than I cared for my own life.
  At what point in time did my ancestors devolve me, when did my DNA first form this biological gap?

My instincts were supposed to protect me.

My gut tells me secrets and
Guides me to answers.
It screams nausea like a
Air raid siren during war time.

My gut speaks to me and
Implores me to listen.
It never chides me when
I ignore its clarion call.

My gut is never wrong and
Sets me timely reminders.
It stores experience like a
Well thumbed user manual.

My gut is instinctive and
It helps me understand others.
Their motives and intentions;
Their weaknesses and strengths.

The bad feeling you had when you knew you should've stopped what you were doing.

                          Nervous                        ­sick inside
The bad feeling went  numb & you started to  panic

                          .          .          .

May­be since then, you've felt the supreme nausea, and kept it secret no doubt.

When no crisis occurs, are we all fools to feel relief?
Is to be caught in the act not  the same thing?

not as plain to see
the answers lie within your soul
perceived as instinct .