Swallowed Whole
“I don’t wanna get up.”
The bed is a stomach lining,
Raw and heaving,
And I am the swallowed lump—
Half-dissolved, half-forgotten,
A stubborn clot in its churn.
The clock doesn’t tick; it convulses—
An artery spasming on the wall.
I lie in my own stink,
A blanket of sweat-stretched skin,
Breath sour as reflux.
The body is a mass of wrong signals,
Fingers clawing at ribs,
Scraping the cage,
Trying to dig out a heart
That drips through its fractures.
The door yawns,
A torn oesophagus gaping in the wall.
I don’t step through.
The world outside is a smear of mucus
On a dirty lung,
Its breath thick with rot.
Even the air clogs,
Coagulating in my throat.
Routine is a shattered jawbone,
Its shards gnaw at my thoughts.
"Move," I whisper,
But the limbs are rubbery tendons,
Slipping, curling back.
Every step is grinding teeth,
Splintering under weight,
The marrow oozing through cracks.
Perfectionism burrows like a parasite,
Its fangs sinking into the stomach.
It chews at the soft pulp,
Tearing away flesh
That bleeds hot failure.
The stomach churns,
Hungry,
Never full,
Never satisfied.
The words lazy, spoiled
Trickle down like pus from the skin,
Sealing me in layers of doubt.
I am a corpse of ambition,
Burning under the heat of what I have dared,
Chest heaving for a breath long snuffed.
Still, I churn in this stomach,
Waiting for the rupture—
To ignite,
To vomit,
Or dissolve
What’s left of me.
@azurePond
Oh my goodness, that was something else! The wet, biological, inflamed descriptions and metaphors are overpowering and nauseating. Reducing the narrator to a part of some half digested clump, and the room and all it's elements some great consuming organism creates such a feeling of powerlessness and inevitability. A slow, painful, repulsive slide down the metaphorical gullet to dissolution. I thought your descriptions of the room, furnishing, and the world beyond were amazing. Each one I read I was surprised by the choice and immediately could visualize it. I also thought it was inspired how you made the macro organism and the narrator bleed into each other, blurring what is effect and what is cause....what is environment and what is choice.
It is not just the visceral organic imagery which is so stomach churning, but also the references which conjure up thoughts of sickness, corruption, and fever; "I lie in my own stink, a blanket of sweat-stretched skin, Breath sour as reflux", "stubborn clot", "a heart that drips through it's fractures", "The world outside is a smear of mucus", "Perfectionism burrows like a parasite". It makes one shudder and the gorge rise.
Such potent and repugnant thematic choices drive the feelings in like an invader. The self doubt (maybe as violent as distaste/disgust at not being capable of being different), the unfairness of labelling whether form others or oneself which keeps the narrator forced down this throat of inaction. I found several of the lines very distressing "I am a corpse of ambition" and "Burning under the heat of what i have dared, chest heaving for breath long snuffed"; they are heartbreakingly bleak. Such despair and resignation echoes throughout the whole piece, but those lines clarify it into a knife slice. The last stanza moving us to the ultimate conclusion, but with no spark of hope. A slow, excruciating process which one dread but equally anticipates to be over.
It was fantastic! Azurepond, if you are not working in a field which is utilising your writing talents, it is a overlooked opportunity indeed....and one which the wider world is missing out. I have rarely felt so appalled and entranced at the same time. One feels one should look away but the eyes refuse. It also left me in a uneasy state...my appreciation for your work tempered by my concern for anyone who might feel something akin to the sensations and thoughts espoused in it. Almost certainly it is pure creativity and hyperbole for poetic art......but on the off chance it is not, I am sending you all the fizzy-feelgood vibes I can muster and wish you to know you are an excellent artist with the written word, a great explorer of the human psyche and soul, and are appreciated by those who have the good fortune to cross your path.
@BastionKnight I’m honestly a bit blown away by your insights – you really got to the heart of what I was trying to convey. It’s so rewarding to know that the visceral imagery and sense of powerlessness came through as intended. I also appreciate your kind words about the work itself; it’s always encouraging to hear such strong feedback, especially when it comes with such a deep understanding of the emotional layers involved. Aaaand.... thank you for your concern – rest assured, it’s all just creative exploration with only a sprinkle of truth, though I definitely enjoy pushing boundaries and making the reader feel something, even if it’s discomfort. I’ll take those fizzy-feelgood vibes with gratitude!
Your message has really made my day (as always), and I’m glad my writing left such an impact. You’ve definitely made me feel appreciated, and I hope you continue to enjoy the journey through words, too! Thank you!
@azurePond ewwww that's so gross 😝😂😂😂 but very clever ❤ you really are a very clever, talented person ❤❤ it's a great poem ❤❤
@Tinywhisper11 My friend had the same reaction after reading this poem – 'gross but beautiful... beautifully gross.' (This was while they were dipping French fries in maple syrup, so I sort of tuned out from the entire interaction after watching something gross as that)
@Tinywhisper11 Also Thank you Tiny whisper... Thank you for the compliments and I will strive to live up to that.🫶
