Everything hurts right now.
Everything is too loud.
My stomach is turning like a broken washing machine, screws loose.
There are too many screws loose.
A taste spewed into my mouth, it reached up from my throat like oil was struck. It tasted like oils, like venoms. It collected between the cheeks and the gums. It pooled between the teeth like trees in marsh water.
I tried to swallow it down. I wanted to return it to the body, force it to return to its source. I hoped it could just naturally desolve back into my body and then exit through urine. But it kept coming, from deep down within my throat.
The particles flew from my mouth.
The white porcelain bowl turned variations the colours brown and red. It was wet green chunks, red misshapen squares, brown broken circles held together by a translucent paste that dripped from the side of the bowl.
Kite tails in the wind.
It was clearly all I’d consumed over the past week.
I’ve tucked into a fetal position. Knees to chest, crossed arms tight like I’m trying to squeeze the venom out of me, tight like if I keep squeezing, I’ll manage to press it through my pores. Rag rung.
Every moment I pray for the pain to dull, but the prayers are short. I realize I can’t trust my bowels.
The restroom visits are every 30 minutess, and sometimes 10 minutes. Over and over again.
I want a break from the agony. I want it now.
I want a win on the score cards. There are too many L’s. It’s time for W’s, in abundance. It’s time for a smile. Refresh me, I ask.
I continue to pray to God, like I continue to dream, while I continue to press and create.
I want to heal. I want it now.
I want to experience the fruits, for the labor is without pause.
I want the pain to be replaced by bliss, entirely. I want it now.
And I understand that I won’t have it until I release it with wild abandon.
My name is Anwar Bey. I call this writing ‘Pain Push’. Thank you for reading. I wrote this while I was experiencing a pain that hit like a brick to the stomach. I’m not sure if I ate something bad or if the nerves have simply become rampant. There is so much happening in life. I’m happy for it, presently moved, and also overwhelmed.
A prose from my library of experiences. The writing helps. And This is how I sharpen the pen. To remind ones self that they got it. Shake the cob webs off patience and perhaps a writers block, or more transparently, an action block.
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All art created using MidJourney A.I. art prompt creation.
Peace.
