Just soooo fucking Shakespearean

I was standing in the paper towel aisle  
at the grocery store at 10 p.m.,    
my feet were killing me  
and my mind was sifting through  
the droning minutes of the meeting I'd just sat in  
when it all came crashing  
down  
around me  
 
When the truth ran its lips across  
the front of my neck,  
worked its way down my body,  
sank its teeth in my belly,  
and worried me like a  
piece of rancid meat  
in the mouth of a stray dog.  
 
My hands tightened around the cart  
and I bit my lip  
my nipples rocks  
as I swallowed,  
incapacitated,  
and I wondered if this was what  
sanity felt like  
 
wondered if it was  
supposed to feel like salt  
and taste like sin  
 
if it was meant to be like  
a hollowness  
a drowning  
a frantic, panicked  
internal negation  
(no, no, no, damn you, no)  
a heart attack and  
fear  
and  
hurt  
and  
 
like it was too much energy to  
take the step forward and grab a  
two-pack of Bounty pick-your-own-size  
paper  
fucking  
towels  
 
like I'd never be OK again  
now that I got my head out of my own  
ass and embraced the truth  
cradling my steaming innards  
as they tumbled through the  
torn peritoneum and slid through  
my madness.  
 
I broke the trance,  
made come hither eyes  
at some random person walking by,  
and thought about the way my bra  
chafed my aching tits,  
and I let it all pour off me,  
the beautiful tragedy,  
the ridiculous comedy of errors  
and I just sort of let it hurt as it  
ran down my spine  
wresting chills on its way down  
 
I added to my universe last night  
in the paper towel aisle at 10 p.m.  
 
and baby, I couldn't help but be  
turned the fuck on
by the devastating  
awareness  
 
of the true scope  
 
of  
 
never