The Curse Of Consumption

I can hardly remember my early life

when I wiggled and wriggled 

embryo-like

blindly 

consuming

all before me.

I know I sensed the warnings

not to bite off more than I could chew,

but consumer of cliches that I was,

I carried on regardless

making a meal of everything

I could swallow,

even the words.

I could feel 

that

change 

was coming

and eventually

it happened!

I made it happen!

My curse became a blessing

and I broke out 

of my hard carapace,

split open the shell

that had become my prison,

did my best to leave it behind

to have a look at the world outside

and continue my cruise of consumption.

Nothing was sacred

I ate it all

and grew fat,

so fat,

too fat.

So fat I felt ready to explode.

And then it happened, 

I swear,

it was like a nuclear explosion

inside me

all the dust and debris of decadence 

solidifying 

into something unspeakable,

mushrooming

into something unintelligible

to be spewed out

of my big accursed mouth.

I don’t know what 

will become of me now.

I don’t know what

I will become now.

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