The Grax Domain

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27 Apr 2007 Running water but through the wrong end

A poem relative to the recent event that happened to me this week.

Running water, but through the wrong end
Flowing through me like tainted wine.
The treats that pass my lips
Have no time to be processed,
Rush through on the gravy train,
Feeling their shapes.

Imodium's all gone but it no work.
Imodium has never failed before. Why now? Why...

Insides gargle like the toilet that I am bound to.

Sleep. A chance to sleep, maybe to rid my troubles.
It works with sea-sickness.
Sleep is good.
Sleep is not enough this time.
It was wishful thinking anyway. Long shot at best. I had nothing else to do.

My sphincter can't take much more dry paper.

Night time. The time. All or nothing. Relentless assault.
Water rushing out with a roar of stink
Unprocessed raisins squeeze thought the ring.
Something burns but I smell no smoke.
There is no fire. Oh God why is there no fire?

I weep with a pain that mere lower-middle class men shouldn't have to tolerate.
Swollen to double its size to try and block the passage.
Need relief. Desperate times.
Petroleum jelly.
Soothness and cool.

Three hours of sleep. This has to end now.

More Imodium, more supplies. It will not fail me.
The gargling beast inside kicks up a fuss.
One more squirt. I throw more ammo inside.
It will not fail me.
It will not!

...

Wait, how long has it been?
6 hours? Oh cool, it must have worked.
Glad that's over.
But I shall never forget.

Running water, but through the wrong end
Flowing through me like tainted wine.

This has been a poem about the two days of diarrhoea I had this week.

Thank you.

Posted at: 13:55 PM