maybe nat would say I sit here alone.
At home.
Plenty of things to eat, None will be consumed.
I leave them in the fridge to rot,
and there are plates full of delicious food stuffed under my bed, waiting to be eaten.
I am so hungry, and my body burns and twists and turns for this wonderful word called "food"
and I can't eat, and I won't eat. Forget it. don't even try. Because it's useless. I WILL NOT DO IT.
bread and peanut butter with smears of jelly are left at my bedside as I pretend to fall asleep before dinner time. I really dont want my mom to get suspicious.
Therapy doesn't help.
It never did, never will. I am impossible.
Mother lies the plate next to the empty water bottles making a pile next to my pillow. Water and sometimes, rare occasions juice.
You consume me, but you never set me free.
I need the light at the end of the tunnel, and I need ABC's and 123's.
Save me, and don't force me. don't shove food down my throat. Because I don't want it. I WANT YOU. more than anything. Please.
endless desire wow
"these words consume her but they never set her free."
((something coporate))
there is a light at the end of the tunnel
just every now and then we all are blind to it
out of stubborness. . .
our own refusal to see the way out
because self hatred longs for pain.
endless pain. with no way of escape.
therefore, no light.
just an ever-growing tunnel.
and a light we must find ourselves.
what's it to you?
who go