Why You're Gonna Vomit Day!
You're gonna put on an old sweatshirt you'll pull three years deep from the bottom of your closet and you'll pull it over your head and there'll be the scent of Joe, who wore it whenever he'd step out on your fire escape to smoke a cigarette and that scent of burnt tobacco paper and Joe's neck will send grey lilly pads drifting over your line of vision and you'll tip back onto your bed so you can try to stretch your frame of bones out just enough to breath again. Breath the air up above your bed. That's fresh. But Joe'll be in your nostrils and so you'll have no choice but to send the acid three hours deep at the bottom of your belly up and out through your nostrils to burn through a layer or two from your nasal passages. You'll allow a near-digested chunk of today's General Tso's to sit just at the back of your throat to fight off any Joe sense-memories that try to resurface. Eventually, the chicken will slide down your throat and you'll be defenseless so you'll throw up once or twice more before you manage to sleep and dream horrible dreams about car crash Dads and Moms.
Happy Why You're Gonna Vomit Day!