March 18, 2011.
we’d refrain from puking
in our mouths
or in the toilet.
A day or two later
Fern called me
In desperation.
“Get over here,”
she said.
“I need you.”
the dogs snoring,
and Fern downstairs
sipping hot beverages
and perfecting
her next great advertising pitch.
By the time
it was morning
I think I had
a cold sore.
Day One,
Day Two,
Day Thirty-Three.
Day One Hundred and Seventeen.
March 18, 2017.
Sometimes I find myself
waiting for my prize.
I guess the prize
is no more vomit.
Though every now and then I still vomit in my head
and instead of at the sun
upon the world,
my eyes keep looking at the wall.
Once I had a therapist
who thought I seemed to struggle
with life's less exciting moments
such as putting on
my pyjamas.
This does not seem
to be true
anymore
even if
I'm still me
and still here.
Emotional Digestion
is not always Spectacular,
but I love
to put on my pyjamas.
And usually,
once or twice a week,
I have the pleasant thought
that finally
and undoubtedly
I feel grateful for my life.
Me and my Cool Friend Fern
vowed that from this day forward
we’d refrain from puking
in our mouths
or in the toilet.
A day or two later
Fern called me
In desperation.
I was eating
an obscene amount
of cantaloupe.
“Get over here,”
she said.
“I need you.”
So I went to her house
in Saint Henri
and hung out with Fern
and her emotionally fragile dogs
who drooled and farted
as Fern and I
ate our favourite versions
of non-hazardous
green and brown foods.
I remember falling asleep
on the fresh clean white sheetsin Saint Henri
and hung out with Fern
and her emotionally fragile dogs
who drooled and farted
as Fern and I
ate our favourite versions
of non-hazardous
green and brown foods.
I remember falling asleep
of her king's sized bed
with the television on, the dogs snoring,
and Fern downstairs
sipping hot beverages
and perfecting
her next great advertising pitch.
By the time
it was morning
I think I had
a cold sore.
Day One,
Day Two,
Day Thirty-Three.
Day One Hundred and Seventeen.
One Year and Twenty-Nine Daysé
Four Years and Eighty-Six Days.March 18, 2017.
Sometimes I find myself
waiting for my prize.
I guess the prize
is no more vomit.
Though every now and then I still vomit in my head
and instead of at the sun
upon the world,
my eyes keep looking at the wall.
Once I had a therapist
who thought I seemed to struggle
with life's less exciting moments
such as putting on
my pyjamas.
This does not seem
to be true
anymore
even if
I'm still me
and still here.
Emotional Digestion
is not always Spectacular,
but I love
to put on my pyjamas.
And usually,
once or twice a week,
I have the pleasant thought
that finally
and undoubtedly
I feel grateful for my life.
The End.
 |
| I love to put on my pyjamas. These pyjamas are for sale. Exuberant Bodhisattva on Facebook Twitter: @mypelvicfloor I Let Go Bodhisattva Business Ventures: Deep Cleans by Erica J. Schmidt (@deepcleanswitherica) Montreal Hippie Threads (@mtlhippiethreads) Instagram: montrealhippiethreads Why I am like Oprah. What does it mean to be well Mythological Unconditional Love |
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