Vomit, In Three Acts

I.
I cannot dip my pen without tipping the ink,
cannot open my mouth
without my marbles coming out and spilling
onto the floor.

They find their ways
into crawl spaces and vents,
past where we can reach.

II.
I cannot open myself up
without bringing my upsides down,
letting fear flow up
from my stomach to my throat
to the floor beneath my feet.

III.
I can feel it coming now.

.

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