chest convulses
white sheets flap up
then downward onto the pristine mattress
a bleary never-ending plain

i leave my mark with an elementary grin
i said, “did i take any drugs?”
but no.

i’m gagging
chest convulses
almost like i’m regurgitating
like i’m a giant fucking bird in a nest made of
tracers and multi-colored pipe cleaners

i feel it push up my stomach
into my esophagus
up into my throat
trigger the sinus
into the mouth,
pull it out with the fingers..

it’s a piece of flesh
divine human skin
creases embedded forever
it looks exactly like the palm of a hand

and that’s just what it is
recoil
retrigger
the eyes dart back and forth in the mirror

this is really happening

i ask you again, about the drugs did i take something?
i know i didn’t but

and now more skin
pulling them out of my mouth piece by piece
i stack them upon each other on the sink countertop
a mass of dark hair matted and attached to the next piece
it keeps coming

and now small flakes of bone
an obvious smooth piece of skull
i stare into the mirror
am i a zombie? no.
i’m talking, i’m in shock
i’m human
i look next to me and say “what the fuck, man”
and you just say “i know, i know”
over
and
over

i want it to stop
did i eat someone’s fucking head?
i feel so sick
i look so pale
a butterfly lands on the mirror
and then a hundred more are all around me

and you thought you had time
but it’s running out
i’m running out
it’ll all be sooner than you think

but i wake up to the white bedsheets
stretched over the cool mattress
it’s pitch black and no one is next to me
it’s six AM
too early to talk
too early to feel
too early to hope

and still you say there’s plenty of time

Matt Sven Calvert