Uterus Carrier

Welcome brain haze, today is the day. Menstrual blood is running, lava-stream-like, over my neural access road. After 36 hours of bleeding, the flood's peak approaches. I might be thinking something at the moment, but it won't reach the outside world across the flood plains. My brain is cut off from the outside world, because my uterus is vomiting clumpy blood out of my vagina. 

We are very busy with that today. 

Today, I am just here to carry that uterus. I contain it. I envelop it. I drink enough water for it. I carry that little humming machine in my stomach, firmly tucked into the base of my torso, bolted into my hips. The blood machine churns busily against my tight back. Turning, humming, expanding, contracting.
I carry this iron maiden around, and it feels like work.

The sensations are so omnipresent, that I am multitasking: bleeding and living. Bleeding and labouring through the brain haze. Bleeding and keeping track of how much I'm bleeding, how long it's been since my last tampon change, if the soaking device has filled up yet, have I left marks somewhere?

I am carrying the uterus, I am multitasking, I feel heavier than usual. My brain is turning into liminal space. 

Please realize, that this isn't my doing, and I am not getting a participation trophy. I'm just there to carry the uterus, clean up the mess like a housemaid. I wash my underwear and watch blood run into the drain. I'm the leaking vessel and its cleaner, as it is getting harder to contain myself.

Welcome brain haze, today is the day. The uterus is usurping this ship. 

The uterus keeps my spaced out shell content with chocolate and carbs. Bread and games. I am just here to carry the uterus, and I am carrying it to the couch. Like a tranquil space monkey, I am touching down heavily with peppermint candy chocolate. Through the brain haze, I am content. I am the vessel, I dispose of its bloody vomit, and I am taking a nap