Impending Doom

Sitting on a wooden bench, I recall

The gazillions I’ve devoured for my fall

Restless yet afebrile

Trouble’s way past my bile

 

 

My bowels lurch in agony of fear

My sweat’s like trickling pearls as doom draws near

I need a place to hide 

I’d never risk my pride

 

 

Distraction’s feckless in freeing my mind

Foolishly dreaming of the tasty kind:

Extra crispy French fries

Meat-laden pizza pies

 

 

Run like a coward! Gallop like a mare!

Signal’s out—that inevitable air!

Corn kernel residue

Will show up where it’s due

 

 

I’ll take my seat on the ceramic throne

To grimace and disgust, I’ll make you prone

Aroma of disease

Hotdogs on my feces