i’m becoming acutely aware of a festering sense of shame.
its a little bug, and at first it played around in my belly, tugging on bits here and there, making it long when i wanted it short, hot when i wanted it cold, loud when i wanted it quiet- creating an itch i couldn’t quite figure out how to scratch.
next, it crawled up to my jaw-cracked it open wide-wider than a watermelon, exposing hard, yellow teeth and a juicy, dangling uvula that swung around wildly as strange sounds were emitted-like desperate cries of baby animals.
after that, the bug got cozy around my hands and laid little baby bugs in each one of my finger tips, making them long and bulbous, awkward and gangly. every time i’m out in the world the baby bugs laying in my finger tips pee just a little, and when i shake the hands of strangers they say, “ew why is your hand so wet??” and i don’t have the heart to tell them they just touched the pee of a couple very small baby bugs nesting inside my fingers, so i just say its the condensation from my cup, or water from washing my hands, or sweat from social anxiety.