Dead Nature in my Guts

Rotting nature, fixed nature, dead nature.

I eat it, and it dies inside me and will not depart my world. It becomes densely compacted matter, somewhat cork-like, and it sits there because it is the most common side effect of all the medications I currently take. I am packed with the natural world in its edible components and I cannot determine whether nature/Nature has made my body into its tomb, or if it wishes me to suffer for tearing up grass for no reason, or washing too much shampoo down the drain and into the river, or what. For I do suffer. Hideously bloated, heavy, weighed down not only by the heavy heavens above but also by my intestines, full of horrid dry immovable feces that make me sink down into the earth by gravitational force. I cannot rise when my bowels are this heavy. Several litres of water per day and fibre fibre fibre and all the truly helpful foods and things that induce peristalsis, and exercise, exercise, yet nowhere does the clog of toxins go. 

So, they give me chemical laxatives at the hospital. 

(random google image for "laxatives")

And all that happens is ... nothing but a slight softening of the situation. It still sits still, and it's all like, 'Oh, I'm just messy in these tiniest bits&bits of near-nothingness that still barely exits', and the pain and weight and bloating remain, and it's already been a week at this point. So I quit their ridiculous prescriptions and return to my herbal witchcraft, feared by all. Especially medical doctors. But I do not give a shit. I drink my special tea, for they do not understand the herbal world - and what occurs but the joyful release of nature from my confines in the best way I could possibly hope for! Overnight. The special tea contains no high levels of antioxidants, which is the main concern, so why do they give a shit if I don't give (enough of) a shit on their chemical de-cloggers. It is truly a most excellent turn of events, the revival of movement and changing matter and life and nature and love and regeneration and recycling and hippie skies and Wow, the sacred/profane object that happily and comfortably emerges after a nice cup of senna-based tea. Lovely, the object that presents itself in the porcelain void that I stare into deeply, and with great satisfaction.

Unfortunately this will be ongoing, as it comes with the territory. The Great Side Effect. The only horror that is greater than The Nausea. Rotting, fixed, dead. That chemo has to get out though, innit. Its the bubblegum dustbunny that needs to be rotting, fixed, and finally dead - just not in my guts. I want it out. Out. All of it. GO!!!!! Flee, not only you great turds, but the murdered fragments sloughed off my healthy cells that are rife within you alongside your crusty edible nature. Be gone, far, far into the underground infrastructures of this city, and eventually dissipate out in open air, in the atmosphere that will accept your fizzled particles and let them blow away, harmless, never to return. A massive fart, blowing in the wind, gradually fading away. Because when you gotta go, you gotta go. Same shit, same pile. Constipation will not stop the elimination of this cancer, bitches!