Not sure how long ago now
But one morning, in the past,
I woke up and was able to discern the back of my head.
And only the back of my head.
Perhaps I could see fractures of light
curving over my dome.
But mainly just the back of my head.
My life wandering around,
blowing a draft onto my own neck with each breath.
Then one day I swallowed my head.
It tasted dirty. For a long time.
Some hairs were so long
They tickled my intestines
While still having ample maneuverability
To floss my teeth.
When it no longer tasted dirty it tasted bland.
A big licky sticky Werther's Original
that lost its taste before its time.
Eventually my tongue began to tingle
my head began to release juices
Cocktails of bright colours and with measures of zing!
My mouth was salivating so profusely
i thought i might drown in my own spit.
There was nothing for it,
I houghed and hacked and whelped
and eventually I heaved
And I coughed up my own head.
I coughed with such force that when I opened my eyes
My eyes were blinded by the light,
My nose was no longer tickled by the hair of my own head.
The back of my head was back where it belonged.
At the bloody back.
Now my eyes look very wide.
And I've developed a phobia of queueing,
I can't bear the sight of the back of a head.