for some reason I decided a few years ago not to be bothered by most bodily function, mine or yours.
ive become somewhat obsessed with my lower intestine recently. the question is, after you've gained complete control over your organs, how much control do you exert?
it is known that when pooping, shitting some call it, you can lose your natural pushing response by habitually pushing too hard. this happened to me. and then I found, I could reverse the crazy 'stuck in your belly' effects by just Letting Go. Now.
I have a choice. When to push? When to just let it drop? It's all so new to me.
And.... this is why no one will ever think I'm beautiful forever (unless they're obsessive).
BUT it also seems the less I worry about how much excrement is inside my belly, the more comes out. Surely you've already grasped this life metaphor it's the ONLY one. You know the one about how when you hold onto a bird too hard you kill it, but if you let it fly away, you know, it'll fly away, and Maybe come back.
I hope that bird flys away forever. But Also, that my poop doesn't re-input any old toxins. Like old boyfriends who really should have gotten the fuck away from me by now. But, kittens. Do bring the family together. Ug .
This morning. My mother brought me coffee and cake in tiny pretty plates.
This morning. My mother brought me coffee and cake in tiny blue and yellow plates.
This morning. My mother.
After exiting her womb. I looked over. Across my left shoulder.
I looked over. The base of my chin caressed over. Point to pin bone.
Wearing white lingerie. Wearing white linens. White stuck to my skin. Peeled off white slightly synthetic material I can feel stickky-ness. It's hot and still summer here.
Layers.
After exiting her womb I saw a sign, said, Come Back Soon!
Escaping doom I knocked it over with my LEFT foot and my LEFT hair.
Covering. My stomach where I dread the dredges do drop their shit.
bum.
