Hunger Pangs

Black holes are usually
misunderstood; rebels
or non-conformists
breaking down all rules
of decency and gravity.
Their lineage really goes
back to carving up lands
the good ol ways.

I should know.

Someone stuffed many of
them down my throat.
They tumbled like snow
flakes against my
oesophagus, slowing,
pulling down time, as
they painstakingly
fell to the pit of my
stomach. A vacuum
cleaner; they ganged
together like a vacuum
cleaner; selfish buggers
eating me from the
inside. My stomach
rumbled uncomfortably.

They weren't rebels
though. They were savvy;
versed in all that good
businesses are.
They knew the value
of a good selling out on man.

So I consulted a doctor.
The physician made me
go 'aaaaa' and while he
hmm-ed close to my dark
mouth, he began
disappearing until he was
gone and I was alone.
I gagged, stuck a finger
down my throat. But
all I vomited was myself.
The black holes stayed.
Became me as I shrunk,
and shrunk until all that
remained of me was an
unsatiated appetite.

And the receding dark
line of the world.