Grime

The pinch in my stomach is so beyond this world. It feels like I'm on a spaceship, flying up into the unknown. It's pinching me because I'm happy. I feel giddy and empowered and maybe even excited. Honestly, my hair is in knots and my legs are tied up and my arms are covered with popping veins and they're all going to explode! INTO A GAZILLION PIECES! And everyone that loves me gets a piece! Bring a butterfly net. Bring a bucket. Bring colorful sand to throw in the air.

Lovely red and pink scabs cover my cheeks because I've been running faster than the speed of light. Faster than super nova on a drag race car. Detailed freckles cover my back and my shoulders and bright white covers my two front teeth and sunshine yellow cover the back ones.

It's all so dirty. Feeling clean doesn't appeal to me anymore. The smells make me nauseous.

I saw vomit at 6 a.m. in the morning. I dry heaved 6 multiple times, and didn't vomit myself.
The carpet is free. It's clean.
So when I go home, I'm going to fill my stomach, then my esophagus, then my throat then it comes out of my mouth and enters the air and gets to fly for a second. Until I regurgitate so much that it just falls upon that clean-cut carpet.

Sometimes, I imagine myself back in time. In the 1930's somewhere. In that movie with that flapper, and the wall of Jericho and the poor guy falling in love for the first time. I imagine myself as the center rebel of that movie. Coming off the train, as a tranny, pissing in public on the train tracks, vomiting in the sewer, and becoming friends with a giant, and showing him my 16 inch dick, then I would slap him in the face with it, then slap everyone I thought wasn't attractive with it.

"That's very degrading, Kayla."
"Because I'm that giant?"
"Ooh.."