a_little_wisp
03-26-2009, 01:13 PM
then there was that time i was eaten by an anaconda.
I was trapped in an anaconda.
(“-Wait, wait, what?”
“Just listen, dude.”)
I had been eaten, to be more specific.
It was I who stepped into that murky water –
I was not pushed -
Half-aware of what was lurking beneath,
Waiting for its next meal.
I found myself being eaten alive
Not quite chewed, it’s a snake, after all-
It’s true, I barely had a moment to scream before I was
Swallowed whole, into the dark pits of the beast's belly.
("- Don't roll your eyes at me,
I speak from experience!"
"Was it rather like being in a dumpster?")
I clawed at the slick lining of that
Slimy, taut, unyielding wall,
Until the space became too little
For me to even breathe,
And my arms were suddenly clenched to my sides
And my muscles burned with pain.
I would have screamed,
But I could no longer feel my face,
Or my flesh.
In the once wide world I was now a lump
In a snake,
And I would suffocate.
("That is so weird."
"Shut up, it's my story,
Of course it's going to be weird.")
Half-digested,
Half-decayed,
Half-alive,
I awoke-
(“That’s not true,” you say,
“You should have died.”
“Shut up,” I reply,
“And let me tell my godd*mn story.”)
No, I became the snake,
“I am the snake. I have no name,
I am the creature.”
We were one, living in the depths of a
Jungle’s river- we were the hidden one.
I died enough, you could say,
But one day, while idly swimming by
The shore I saw a bird who sang to me,
She said, “You were once human,
You have the eyes of a human, and
You do not eat humans,
You are sick, you starve, you will not feed-
If you will not succumb, why not try fighting?”
("Who's the bird?"
I sip my tea, calmly, and reply in an even tone:
"Not all my stories are metaphorical."
"Whatever.")
And I said, “Do you dare speak so boldly to me,
Who could end your life in an instant?”
The little bird laughed in my face, and I recoiled,
Shrank away from the sound, for I was so small by then
That perhaps she could have eaten me-
I wasn’t sure.
“Do you want me to help you?”
“No,” I snapped. “I put myself in the river,
I can take myself out when I wish to leave.”
But I wasn’t so certain then,
And suddenly I felt like I was being
Constricted, all over again,
But now
Within my own body.
“You have a very inflated sense of pride,”
The little bird remarked, but I could only hiss in response at her.
And then I cried.
("Don't laugh.
- okay, you can laugh.")
But snakes can’t cry, it makes no sense, but I had to,
I would die if I didn’t.
However,
Warm and snug and safe and half-dead in this body,
I didn’t want to leave. I was a snake and –
“You’re not a snake.”
I wasn’t?
And it came to me that
I stepped in that river because I couldn’t stop myself,
Because I’d taken one step down a steep hill and had forgotten to hit the brakes
When it mattered most.
So there I was, in a river of sludge,
And there it came, the snake,
And I barely fought it.
("You would be the one to trip
And fall into the amazon river
And get eaten by an anaconda.")
“What will they think of me,
The humans? They have great stories to tell,
They’ve seen wondrous things,
And I’ve only stories of sludge and starvation.
Where are they now,
What have they done with their lives?”
The little bird cocked her head to the side
And seemed to smile,
(“But, of course, that’s silly,
Birds have beaks,
They can’t smile.”),
And she said,
“Why, not all are humans.
Some fell in worse traps than yours.
But we can always escape,
If we remember that we’re human –
We have the choice-
We always have a choice.”
“But I’ve been eaten whole- there’s
Nothing left of me.”
“Then start over.”
“I’m scared.”
“Then die.”
Such paralyzing fear swept over me then.
And I rose, and I tried to stand,
But I had no legs,
So I began to shed.
I pushed,
I strained at the corded bonds around me,
At the thick muscle,
(“Not unlike escaping mother’s womb!"
Because it's my duty to quote movies
No one has ever heard of.)
And my skin shed,
Layer after layer,
And I rolled and fought
Against the itch that
Nearly forced me to give in
And just be a snake,
In my river,
In my sludge,
Left alone.
And then I screamed.
The sound was so deliciously my own that
I tore even harder at the skin –
Now my hands were there,
And then they ached from the force of the fight–
But the bird helped, pulling off the layers,
Pecking at the skin.
“I’m so tired, I can’t fight,”
I wept, and felt weak and ashamed.
“You have to fight, you’re almost there.”
And then...
And then there was one last layer, coating me as a cocoon would.
At my first movement it tore, so delicate it was,
Crisp to the touch.
("Oh, like a wafer?")
I unwrapped myself,
And stood, naked,
But unashamed-
I was free.
And the little bird flew away,
Because she had her own life,
And I had mine.
I took my first step up that steep slope,
And I fell countless times
On my new limbs,
But I was dying to see what awaited me at the top
Of that ridge.
And so I rose,
Again and again.
And do you know what I found?
"Um, no."
That’s all right.
Neither do I-
I think that’s part of the adventure.
I was trapped in an anaconda.
(“-Wait, wait, what?”
“Just listen, dude.”)
I had been eaten, to be more specific.
It was I who stepped into that murky water –
I was not pushed -
Half-aware of what was lurking beneath,
Waiting for its next meal.
I found myself being eaten alive
Not quite chewed, it’s a snake, after all-
It’s true, I barely had a moment to scream before I was
Swallowed whole, into the dark pits of the beast's belly.
("- Don't roll your eyes at me,
I speak from experience!"
"Was it rather like being in a dumpster?")
I clawed at the slick lining of that
Slimy, taut, unyielding wall,
Until the space became too little
For me to even breathe,
And my arms were suddenly clenched to my sides
And my muscles burned with pain.
I would have screamed,
But I could no longer feel my face,
Or my flesh.
In the once wide world I was now a lump
In a snake,
And I would suffocate.
("That is so weird."
"Shut up, it's my story,
Of course it's going to be weird.")
Half-digested,
Half-decayed,
Half-alive,
I awoke-
(“That’s not true,” you say,
“You should have died.”
“Shut up,” I reply,
“And let me tell my godd*mn story.”)
No, I became the snake,
“I am the snake. I have no name,
I am the creature.”
We were one, living in the depths of a
Jungle’s river- we were the hidden one.
I died enough, you could say,
But one day, while idly swimming by
The shore I saw a bird who sang to me,
She said, “You were once human,
You have the eyes of a human, and
You do not eat humans,
You are sick, you starve, you will not feed-
If you will not succumb, why not try fighting?”
("Who's the bird?"
I sip my tea, calmly, and reply in an even tone:
"Not all my stories are metaphorical."
"Whatever.")
And I said, “Do you dare speak so boldly to me,
Who could end your life in an instant?”
The little bird laughed in my face, and I recoiled,
Shrank away from the sound, for I was so small by then
That perhaps she could have eaten me-
I wasn’t sure.
“Do you want me to help you?”
“No,” I snapped. “I put myself in the river,
I can take myself out when I wish to leave.”
But I wasn’t so certain then,
And suddenly I felt like I was being
Constricted, all over again,
But now
Within my own body.
“You have a very inflated sense of pride,”
The little bird remarked, but I could only hiss in response at her.
And then I cried.
("Don't laugh.
- okay, you can laugh.")
But snakes can’t cry, it makes no sense, but I had to,
I would die if I didn’t.
However,
Warm and snug and safe and half-dead in this body,
I didn’t want to leave. I was a snake and –
“You’re not a snake.”
I wasn’t?
And it came to me that
I stepped in that river because I couldn’t stop myself,
Because I’d taken one step down a steep hill and had forgotten to hit the brakes
When it mattered most.
So there I was, in a river of sludge,
And there it came, the snake,
And I barely fought it.
("You would be the one to trip
And fall into the amazon river
And get eaten by an anaconda.")
“What will they think of me,
The humans? They have great stories to tell,
They’ve seen wondrous things,
And I’ve only stories of sludge and starvation.
Where are they now,
What have they done with their lives?”
The little bird cocked her head to the side
And seemed to smile,
(“But, of course, that’s silly,
Birds have beaks,
They can’t smile.”),
And she said,
“Why, not all are humans.
Some fell in worse traps than yours.
But we can always escape,
If we remember that we’re human –
We have the choice-
We always have a choice.”
“But I’ve been eaten whole- there’s
Nothing left of me.”
“Then start over.”
“I’m scared.”
“Then die.”
Such paralyzing fear swept over me then.
And I rose, and I tried to stand,
But I had no legs,
So I began to shed.
I pushed,
I strained at the corded bonds around me,
At the thick muscle,
(“Not unlike escaping mother’s womb!"
Because it's my duty to quote movies
No one has ever heard of.)
And my skin shed,
Layer after layer,
And I rolled and fought
Against the itch that
Nearly forced me to give in
And just be a snake,
In my river,
In my sludge,
Left alone.
And then I screamed.
The sound was so deliciously my own that
I tore even harder at the skin –
Now my hands were there,
And then they ached from the force of the fight–
But the bird helped, pulling off the layers,
Pecking at the skin.
“I’m so tired, I can’t fight,”
I wept, and felt weak and ashamed.
“You have to fight, you’re almost there.”
And then...
And then there was one last layer, coating me as a cocoon would.
At my first movement it tore, so delicate it was,
Crisp to the touch.
("Oh, like a wafer?")
I unwrapped myself,
And stood, naked,
But unashamed-
I was free.
And the little bird flew away,
Because she had her own life,
And I had mine.
I took my first step up that steep slope,
And I fell countless times
On my new limbs,
But I was dying to see what awaited me at the top
Of that ridge.
And so I rose,
Again and again.
And do you know what I found?
"Um, no."
That’s all right.
Neither do I-
I think that’s part of the adventure.