Emesis

Gold flecks in the potter’s ground.

Glitter, glimmer, glint, gleam.

Gold flecks in the cracking dermis.

Ruby streaks in the reeking fluid.

Crimson blood along pine-needle bile. 

Three months too late for Christmas. 

A yule log laid in my bed, burning.

Each day, drier. Each day, lighter.

Never been so scared in my life.

I am selfish.

I know.

But six years and three months of service

Has earned me this one indulgence. 

I can’t stand seeing her like this.

In supplication to Deimos and Phobos.

Drill down into her.

A bead of red sand drips into the analyzer.

As dry and cold as utopia’s plains.

I am selfish.

I know.

But I can't even think in straight lines,

And I cannot keep watching

As she spits out pieces of herself.

Losing a little more with each repetition.

Emesis.

Emesis.

Emesis.