Creeping Hours

In the creeping hours to the wake of a new day, a pop bellied teen silently lay, reminiscing about the events earlier that day, senior choir members singing on and off tone, a particularly dark lady, sounded like one that’s fallen over a cliff, two youngins sprawled on the pews, joked, laughed and screamed “hallelujah, yea yea yea,” mimicking the dark lady weary and tired, mixed with drowsiness too, drifted into a nice slumber too, only to recall, you reap what you sow and the visage was horrifyingly true.  Awakened, belly shooken and shaken, bladder’s about to win a marathon, she quickly emerges like a hunter on it’s prey, shuffling about only 20 fts, from the concentration camp, slowly slithering like melted ice cream, she screams but nothing comes out, “oops, I’ve pissed on myself granny”, “lawd have mercy baby, call ya sistah quickly, gather your bags, hurry up bae”, she’s panicing, but the youngin is frozen in time, another voice echoes, move, go about your way, head shaking and body aching oh no way, disinfectants, vomit, screams and shouts rang through the open place, as if floating through mid air the rush of molecules, deminishes quickly, as if firesprays the orbitals, electrical shocks, it feels like entrails are ripping apart, alert sounds, drip, drop…drip drop.. get this heifer out, tick tock… tick tock… ouch….sprays on a naked body…soap…dispair….nothings fair…ego screaming wash your cat out…-get out-get out- you can go in shock-toxic you really don't put in ya croch…damn it…arrrgh…sleepy-sleepy-sleepy crying, crowning tear drenched face snot coming out like it’s running for 1st place, exhausted come you can do it…pressure intense…mama screams after the sound of pop pop pop. WTF is that a four leaf clover, no it’s a group of hemorrhoids. Whew wewcloud 9, I’ve been taken back in time, favorite show on display, watching the back of my eyelids. 

- Commey