My belly is the melting pot for every pent up emotion I’ve ever felt. Churning and burning the vileness rises up my esophagus and chokes me with its hands like its alive and has a mind of its own. I’m gagging off the stress disappointments sins ready to metaphorically throw up my hands and surrender to what’s cookin in me. Feeling queasy like I just drank some pot liquor with my corn bread Fed up with feeling… And its **** near sickening The thickness of the drama is cuttable Like I could slice a piece of my insides like grandma’s red velvet cake. The pot had some good stuff too but it got stuck at the bottom cause the other ingredients didn’t let it move around and it got brown black rusty and eventually died… And all I had was 68 day old leftovers. Anybody hungry?