Stop the Ride

I’m unsure how to stop this ride.

I’ve been spinning for years.

I’ve thrown-up so many times

it’s become a part of who I am

now. I’m the spinning vomit guy.

The ride, I got on it against my will,

thrown on through curious lines of

destiny and fate, mixed with dumb

luck and some shoving from behind.

I’m only riding because it’s the only ride.

The twisted carnival worker who

started the whole thing went on a

cigarette break millennia ago and

I don’t think they are coming back.

Too much vomit now surrounds the ride,

like a moat.

I’m sure there are others on this ride.

I can’t see them due to the constant

whizzing blur of this spinning hell I’m

trapped on. And I’m sure some of this

vomit isn’t all my vomit. I haven’t had

a French Fry in years.

I just want to know how to stop it,

this ridiculous revolution of riding,

without any control, only the perception

of control, and that’s been gone forever.

I want to hit the brakes and get off.

But I’m still spinning, my head is now

permanently stuck tilted to the left,

my body, now malformed due to the

forces of gravity pushing me into this

horrid bent and misshapen man.

Please, stop the spinning, the whizzing and

the whirling, the shouting and screaming,

the vomit and the despairing. Let this

Carnival close, let this circus fold.

And stop the spinning. Stop the ride.