Dirgeso (by redundancy and complaint)
A message, dedicated to the heavy, throaty feelings, or more metaphorically of swallowing birdseed and quicksand, of eating too much dense bread. You know, black-holes, well no, but... a'hem, I had, “I had” excuse me, “I had a pizza” or... something, after a night of underground dancing downtown, under the ground, and instead of eating any of the pleasant inner, pizza-innards-- Ah, for imagine, I just forgot how to eat the wet-spinach, grease-sweating cheese and instead wound up eating the massive rim, Colosseum of yeast and 'The Dry Circumference' and then pair that with all the actual non-metaphorical pissing (not unlike the colour of perfume; of urine) and the swallowing of drained, dehydrated puddle-muck (chalky ribbons of wasted newspaper and cigarette-bendys, shiny corners of choco-bar wrappers, the spirits of shoe-prints, dried gobs of spit, living on as the gum-sized ruins of popped saliva-bubbles, fully inedible-- this dirgeso harmful, refusing digestion; this flotsam symptomology hung around until, well, even, OhHi//, even rightthis moment, and I have to sit up, unsure shadow practising on my right, and I try, gently propped, scuffling, leaning forward in bed, reversed gasping, t'burp all for naught-- as the heaviness in my esophageal top-thrd is like sand, and like dense breadx3, did I mention? like pizza-rim, garbage-town, etc... I have it in my throat possibly way-off diaphragm, damned-up and I would very much like to feel the familiar hollowness that usually goes with throatycones, that more correct conical anatomy, and until such a time I wonder if I tried to walk, if, if, trombone, I might tip over from all the impressing metal and weight in my esophagus and maybe I'm nearly top-heavy, is what I'm getting at. A most uncomfortable feeling-- a certain dyspepsia, the fatiguing type, as described above but not to re-reference. Can't regurgitate, when really, I can't even regurgitate.
