The milk

That night I drank milk. I drank it and kept drinking it. I drank all I had and then some. I went out to get more. I cleaned out the local shop's whole supply. I drank full fat semi skimmed and skimmed. I drank it straight from the bottle the carton and the vat and the truck. I had a hose. I had a funnel. I drank until the cows came home. 

I drank it non-stop until the gulps hurt then I drank more. I drank until I couldn't breathe and then I kept drinking. I drank until the calcium in my teeth made them so strong that they bit through my tongue without me noticing. I drank until the milk eroded the back of my throat and mixed blood into the falling milky cocktail. 

I drank until my bones were so so strong they destroyed themselves. I drank until my eyes cried milk and drowned the pupils so they looked like pathetic tiny raisins, shriveled and lifeless, on the expanses of two identical moons. I drank until the quantities of calcium turned my brain into an udder, and made me see cows floating in the milk lake of my tears. I held onto them as they passed. They were indifferent to my using them as a raft. They didn't even say moo. We floated towards eternity. Towards the inevitable waterfall that no one is strong enough to paddle against with their pathetic puny human limbs. I drank as we fell as we tumbled through the sky as the milk painted my clothes and hair and got up my nose and charged into my lungs. I drank and I drank. I drank all the milk we were drowning in, to save us, and then cried it right back out again, so we started all over again, the flapping the gasping the screaming for someone to save us and the drinking the endless drinking of the milk