MAN ON THE MOON

Illness is a full-time job, a tyrant who orders your life, never leaving you alone.

Illness is a full-time job, a tyrant who orders your life, never leaving you alone. 

Luckily, I am in Tesco, head back, staring up at the monitor suspended from the ceiling. I wonder where I am in the frame until I spot myself, crawling into the corner, a black armoured beetle spinning on its axis or suddenly moving in a straight line.  Getting bigger as I move towards the camera, I am mesmerised by what this creature is. What are they doing here? How does it survive?

I wake up strangled by my own gut. A cummerbund of displaced muscle and excrement is tightening its grip, crushing my ribs and internal organs. I’ve always been full of shit but this is getting ridiculous. The pain is rising and I fear I am going to be smothered. I start to panic; will I die today? Might it be a relief?