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Red Bull

I take my index finger and thumb
To hold the tab
And I flip it,
Depressing it
Into the tin-plated membrane
Of a lid.
The brief sound of crunching metal emits—
Like the sound of a second long
Car crash or aerial collision,
Maybe an airplane's wing ripping off
Into the azure emptiness of the peaceful sky—
And then a miniscule mushroom cloud
Puffs out, a carbonated explosion
Blasting on impact,
Terminating all the bacterial life
That used to hover in the air.
I grab the can in my hand,
Firmly, but casually too,
And I tilt my wrist back—
The lid pressed to my lips—
Letting the liquid pour
Down my parching throat.
The sweet, synthetic toxins of flavor
Sugar coat my teeth,
Crawling into the crevices
Of my cavities.
A radioactive foam
Drifts down my neck,
Down my esophagus.
It's just as if sewage were slushing in my insides,
Swishing down the canals and piping
That pumps my sustenance.
My health deteriorates for a moment,
Merely corroding from the acidic waste
Chugging from my mouth
To the blood stream.
My internal rivers dam up
Against the sugar rush;
Contaminate against
The passing poisons
Of epoxy resin
And aluminum.
I dehydrate myself by drinking.
The bubbles fizz, boiling my stomach,
Burning holes and ulcers in it.
The flood gates of my abdomen open
And all my innards are washed away
In the muriatic gushes that swoop straight through me.
My whole body is gutted, rotted.
Then I let the nuclear estuaries out.

poem by Tim Stensloff
Added by Poetry Lover
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