Cheesy Feet

A piece of prose which ends with the line ‘I felt like a half-eaten Gorgonzola

Who was I? I knew I existed but only as something nascent, warm and fluid, freed from the confines of where I was formed. I experienced being transported, then poured into something that seemed like a permanent home. Still embryonic, half-formed, half-aware, I settled motionless, waiting for further development. Pure as a newborn babe to begin with, contamination entered my heart. I had a sense of being corrupted, polluted, infected with unwholesome toxins and troubled by slowly congealing lumps. As my liquidity dwindled, what fluid I had was whisked away and alien rods were inserted into my innards. A long wait followed until, as a fully formed substance afflicted with varicose veins, I was placed on a table where, cut to the quick with knives, I finally learned who I was. And how do I feel? I feel like a half-eaten Gorgonzola.