My River

River was it or was it not, I am not so sure, But that’s the feeling one day I sure got, Something flowed from the top, Right where I began my height, And as if a river would it began down its drop, It meandered in my mind for a while, Then got into my forehead, It sure had covered a pretty big mile, Now my nasal cavity felt the flow, As if tributaries ran in cheeks, And the entire visage began to glow, Neck is neck and is long, To straighten things it’s pretty narrow, Now it was in neck headlong, And flowed like a straight gush, Fast, furious Making the inner lines quite lush, Then as if set free from narrow confines, I felt my chest suffused, And now it was spreading in all available ravines, Another flow was coming from top, But I was busy feeling this one, As it continued its drop, Running with the gravity, That kept me glued to ground, “My River” now got into stomach cavity, as if it had reached a basin, it began its mad churn in the area, it began swirling all bread and raisin, below the stomach there is a knob, now to there it began its final drop, with all abandon and bob, it filled me with life, right where all cakes were cut, with my pretty sharp knife, I know there was an escape, To the out and out, But it strangely began its upward back scrape, All flows that came down, Began to move back, To the head top town, However each of them was not the same, As had began first journey down, I felt they were smaller after the travel cut and maimed, Long thereafter I felt that my fresh flows stopped, Coming from the head top, And the ferocity of older ones dropped, Until there came a day, When I felt all was sapped, And could escape out from anywhere, And it did escape out to leave me dead.