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Jellyfish Apr 2016
Last night I shoved a bottle of Advil down my throat as I cried, begging my insides to stop hurting, pleading for my heart to stop threatening to stop loving. Please God do not make me do this
I don't want to end it
I did love him
tell me where I went wrong
stop hurting
I regurgitate the pills and cry harder
this is not the way to handle my emotions
you need to stop hurting yourself
you've been so happy
what went wrong Rebecca?
Michael Cassio Sep 2015
Spice may entice a not-so-nice chunder
Nay twice, nay thrice, an undoubted blunder?
As he threw - as He did chew - we all foresaw calamity
Then we knew - as He did spew -
This is ******* hilarity
Inspired by the experiences of one Fenton four times after consuming the prophetic 'spice bag' and spewing on the majority of wetherspoons in dun laoghaire (four whole times). Also he was sober.
A lecherous
demeanor burnt
the tongue,
like cheesy solicitations in
antagonistic ruminations of
ventured conjecture, churning
sputtered calculations,
a tactile exercise
    in the biting tang  of
eviscerating maceration
regurgitating bitter sediment,
unctuous residue
   slid down the throat,
the aftertaste remained
   long after it was digested
Burp

— The End —