#digestion
Anyone who wants
renewal must eat others:
Eat or be eaten.
Jan 7
Jan 7, 2026 at 4:28 AM UTC
Stillness—your mercy a cruel myth.
Lotus rises from silted depths;
but we drown in slow decay—
no resting place,
Yet buried by silent autodigestion.
Nov 2, 2025
Nov 2, 2025 at 11:18 PM UTC
Weary and wanting from the ache inside
No emotion at any depth I try to hide
A hollow pit waiting for something to burn
You can fill up the spaces but there’s always a way out
Down through the tunnel and out to be more
Th urge once again rises and the search continues
No absolute but a constant hope to be fulfilled
Something sufficient
Providing contentment
Would the pursuit transform into another
I beg for a new world
Or perhaps a new heart
No matter how hard I try
Trying is the opposite of actuality
A veil over reality by our thoughts and layers of excuses to manifest
In the end there is nothing and in the beginning there was nothing
The gap that leads into infinity
An understanding of a black hole empathically
Maybe it really does hold a universe
How natural is it to be empty and yet create boundaries of space and time
We perceive the outside but in essence is it truly empty
Or is it a hole even?
Perhaps we perceive a sphere but in higher dimensions we’d see it as what we understand to be a tunnel
Where would it take us
I think it will only take us to another land where we translate the hunger into a new form
The multiverse is just another reason to keep searching after we’ve only found half the answers in this one
It seems we never even finish what we start
Because we fear the end
We’ve made it fatal in our minds
When our soul knows nothing may be permanent here
There is a universe that came before all of this
where we truly exist
And know this is a game that we’ve played for eons
To entertain ourselves
To evolve as the divine always has
Transcending labels because it moves regardless of our insignificant judgements
Will the static stagnation into a dynamic situation
Simultaneous reaction
Awake while in a dream
Looking for an opening and the maze will always grow
Let it go
Jan 28, 2019
Jan 28, 2019 at 11:27 AM UTC
You know
you're aging
when silence
becomes a major
part
of your
presence
Mar 7, 2018
Mar 7, 2018 at 3:06 AM UTC
an inchworm, up-ing and down-ing its way through my
intestines is not bright
green as it traverses the dark gloomy
lumen of my
insides.
darkness requires complete
darkness, no color, just
darkness, but at least it is
warm.
i do not know if the inchworm can
see but i hope it can feel
comfort in the
dark.
dear inchworm, i wish you
good fortune on your travels as you
measure my insides with
tenacious tickling loops.
Dec 3, 2017
Dec 3, 2017 at 2:26 PM UTC
Loads of bubble wrap piled behind
and it crackles like how a stomach
gets twisted on itself after
eons of sleep
decoding it's diaphragm to follow
the blips and beeps and bleeps
encrusted on trusting
a tight gut reaction to
wanting to touch
you.
But waiting is so difficult.
Loads of suds creep up
forming in cysts or scabs
upon stomach encasings
all slimy and orange inside
with a stretchy cover all
deep royal purple with
dark pink veins coursing
through it encoding the
rapture of film recording while
the lining inside gets all clammy
with arousal secretly clenching
this yearning and aching just
wanting to touch
you.
But waiting is so difficult.
It's a difficult, messy procedure that leaves the body exposed if it comes in contact to actual skin and flush and heat and mucus but
it is a necessary step to
colloquial banter within
the clustering of organs all
internally arguing while the
overwhelmed brain tries to keep order and the genitalia hums
all quiet in the corner
because she knows she runs
the show.
And it's funny because the brain knows he'll have to give in to
the actual world of living folks
and climb out of his bundled
fabulous fantasies in order to
make reality plausible.
And in wanting you
and in waiting
I've found myself in visceral shock
to the point where I panic and
all that's jumbled up and bound inside me seems to clench tighter.
And I fear that in waiting for your mutual touch
and I fear that in wanting to be with you so much
I'll collapse under the weight
and never get up.
Loads of words hide beneath me
resting in tubes that resemble
the small intestines in looping
nests of unbridled questions.
Will it be enough to see you
and not touch you?
Will it be enough to talk
with you and not kiss you?
Will it be enough to be chaste
and respectful when all my brain needs to do is test you?
When all my brain wants to do
is clobber you whole, chew, then swallow, spitting out bones?
Jan 20, 2017
Jan 20, 2017 at 2:19 PM UTC
Wipe me clean of bitterness:
left over is a bland weak limp
thing who cannot stand
out in a meal, gets
eaten for lunch
no consequences for the
stomach that restrains me
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 2:31 PM UTC
Aunt Lottie had a slow and careful walk
every step could jar
the delicate balance
of the fragile grand piano
she had swallowed.
It was no ordinary instrument
it was entirely made of crystal
which added to the fears
of its disturbance
or destruction
by the simplest slip or stumble
or missed footing on a step.
It was a slight inconvenience
she had taken in her stride.
Matters concerning the said piano
were only discussed in hushed tones
on Wednesday afternoons
and only with her dearest nephew, Ludwig
who sensitively seemed to understand
the precious nature of imagination
and the tickling discomforts
of digested furniture and such things
as fancy may create.
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 1:24 PM UTC
Too much on one plate
For a four course dinner date with death
Its getting late and I still can't digest her inevitability
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 3:40 PM UTC