Down Bad

I am down badly. My body collapses on the floor, as if gravity became a hundred times stronger.

I am down awfully. The floor can't hold me any longer, I fall through the roof of my downstairs neighbor, smashing into the kitchen table where a few seconds ago a fine vase, gifted by a long dead grandma, is shattered to bits.

I am down terribly. The shattered vase burrows itself in my skin and flesh as I destroy the ground and fall into the sewer. It smells weirdly familiar, somewhere a memory is repressed to no more than a painfully joyful flash.

I am down horrendously. My body can't match my soul, the first stays trapped by the cold wet stones, the second descends the abyss of hornyness. In despair, I start cracking the stone with my bare hands, for my body lusts for my soul as my soul lusts for you.

I am down disgracefully. After too many excruciating minutes it isn't rock being grabber and thrown away, but dirty. It installs itself under my fingernails, but just for a second as the amount of soil being kidnapped from Gaia grows, so those the amount under my keratin-finger-armor. Soon it is ripped away leaving only flesh to do the job. I don't even notice it.

I am down lovecraftianlly. I now dig with the bones that once composed my arms, it was grinded away by Mother Earth's resistance. But I finally surpass the barrier. I am in the cave. I find my soul at last. Finally almost whole, the only thing lacking is you.

I am down bad. I look at you as the Devil looks at the first sin yet to be committed. As a vampire that lived for centuries on small animals looks at the last human alive. As a revolutionary looks at an unguarded prime minister. As the indominable unstoppable human spirit looks at the cold emptiness of space. I'm down bad.

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