This pain in my guts is
visceral a severe
punishment for mistakes
How many have I made
if I eat broccoli
I die a thousand deaths
It takes a day or two
before I'm on the throne
doubled over the shits
Stick knives inside my bowels
cut me up in pieces
laugh as my belly aches
People don't want to know
this problem I suffer
unlike motion sickness
Another malady
I suffered as a child
less so as an adult
In a parallel world
there lives another me
happy to be alive
Never less than grateful
no matter if asthma
lessens each of my breaths
In this world poetry
eats me from the inside
tears me up into bits
Never do I suffer
more than when my body
becomes other to mind
Mind over matter say
wise teachers of past lifes
unbearable lightness
YHVH or Adonai
two of the many names
used to describe the cult
Germane to germinate
from Genesis to Ruth
among these scrolls books thrive
Until my final days
at the bookstore the stress
did not destroy my guts
Terrible as it sounds
one boss showed her contempt
she thought I told her lies
So I could call in sick
take time off with paid leave
easy to scam the blind
If colonoscopy
reports account for truth
only the devil struts
So openly swaggers
without many backers
while a man in pain cries
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