Tag Archives: eat

adi/s/pose

tightening flesh

willpower on a noose

chunks, spilling out

from folds of cloth

and utter self-shame

repulsiveness—

a circular shadow

fingers shoved down

screaming throats

holding on, and yet still

letting go—insides

curl in disgust

acid burning teeth

unable to fully digest

the ugliest truth

that’s all you will ever be

crushed bones and

muddled-up delusions

and bloated organs showing

all of your secrets;

no one will ever love

a colossal mess

not even yourself

especially not yourself—

swallowing cold hope

will only result in

a violent choke

but isn’t that what you

wanted all along?

skin turns blue, then red

aftertastes blending

in an open mouth…

what are you waiting for?

go on then—

eat your fucking heart out.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Consumed

Yeah, this is what I do, take another bite
Big enough to chew
She said, “Careful, or you’ll lose it”
But girl, I’m only human
And I know there’s a blade where your heart is
And you know how to use it…


Entrée # 1: Hors d’œuvre

There’s blood in my fingers from where you broke them clean

Take another bite of my quivering torso, gut the blade in my spleen

I’ll be alright, my bloodshot eyes roll back at your finer tastes

If you’re planning to murder me, dear, just don’t let me go to waste


Entrée #2: Apéritif

I couldn’t lose it, I wouldn’t lose it, this time, this time I swear

They all look so goddamn tantialising to me, they’re all so unaware

My cracked lips are watering at the thought of flesh rather aged

I’m five seconds away from counting down and going into a rampage


Fine Dining: Plat Principal

The rioting voices in my head screamed “Run, why don’t you?!”

But I’m afraid I’m enjoying my own homicide scene far too much to stop

Turn around, let me see the perpetrator, let me take you through

It’s not fair, with every gland and chemical, they ruptured in another trap


Save Some Room: Assiette à Dessert

What…what the fuck happened? All I see is a decaying cadaver still smiling

And sweet postmortem laughter digging at the back of my head, latching to me

I searched for a drag, lost restraint again, and satisfied myself with my  f e e d

I said that I’ll stop killing for greed, but I never said I’ll stop for what I  n e e d.


And you can take my flesh if you want, girl
But, baby, don’t abuse it
These voices in my head screaming, “Run, now”
I’m praying that they’re human…

2 Comments

Filed under Poetry

a family dinner in two parts

I’ve felt so gray and out of place
Bent out of shape, but stuck in my ways
And I’ve been searching for the answer
Will I always be this way?

~*~

(i.)

i’m sorry that

i don’t act the way

i’m supposed to

that i couldn’t keep up

my play this time around

i’m sorry that i could

barely bring myself

to chew and swallow

because my stomach feels

like it’s choking on itself

i’m sorry for being

too weary and worn-out

not just because i lack sleep

but also because i’m tired

of trying to live again and again

i’d rather just end all this.

.

(ii.)

i’m sorry i can’t be

a part of your picture

perfect family, that

my smile never reaches

my jaded eyes, and it shows

in all the photographs

i’m sorry that my anxiety

is kicking in and badly

crippling my entire system

and i’m sorry you don’t

notice the unnerving mess that

i’ve been reduced to

and continue to yell at me

for being fucking ungrateful

i want to scream back

but it’s all i can do to stifle

my tears and clench my fists

to keep all the trauma in

i’d rather just end all this.

~*~

And it’s getting harder to pretend like I’m okay
When there’s a constant reminder being drilled into my brain
I still believe in happiness and I want to find a way
But lately, my whole world is being swallowed by the grey…

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

loss of appetite

thanks

so much for

having the amazing

ability to kill my appetite

it’s really helping

out with my

diet.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Death Sentence

Dining with chronic depression

Is just like a prisoner eating his

Final meal before his execution

.
A gloom hangs heavier, feeling

Like the noose your neck will be

Choking; twisted stomach empty

.

Still, it’s more fulfilling being fed

When you know in your mind that

You’re close to being fucking dead.

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry