Martyrdom

Death Stench of Forgotten Stories

A medium.com phenomenon

Have you ever penned a piece on Medium dot com that got lots of love, attention, and cacophonous clapping, only to

die

three days later, like a dead fish, never to be so much as

poked

with a fork ever again by even the most bored of readers?

Do you let these pieces fester on the bottom of the great list of classics on your profile page, doing your best to happily

ignore

the slow rising death stench of silence they inevitably exude?

Like that old bad piece of food you can’t find in the back of your packed fridge that is

stinking

up your whole apartment?

And when there are 20, 30, 50, ONE HUNDRED of these neglected, forgotten stories, does the stench gather weight, mass, and

power,

so much so, that you are afraid to scroll down and delete them, like dusty, moldy

buried

books in your basement you haven’t fingered in decades?

Or do you sit on your growing pile of forgotten, neglected, scorned

shit

like it’s an asset, a good thing, something to brag about somehow, even if privately to yourself,

like look at all the crap I wrote on this site that once upon a time got

claps,

comments, views, and reads, that had a shelf life of three days, less shelf life than left over

meat

or

cheese.

Do you sit on your pile like a dog proud of its pile of own steaming

shit?

© Carlo Zeno 2023

__________________

Come feed on this piece quickly before it expires in three days. And thank you to my friends and handlers at Doctor Funny for remembering to still tag me in their happy New Year’s happy humpday message even after my being laid up in a coma for three straight months without even so much as a haiku to my name. Cheers, and check out these fossils below I found buried rotting on the south side of my profile page 👇