I'm not hungry
Overeating is bad and I know it.
So I don't eat more than I need.
I know that it's unecessary.
I don't need it, I'm fine.
I can live without it.
This Food is torturing.
I'm hungry. I can't stop it.
I want it, I need it, I must have it.
I want all of it.
Can't stop those overwhelming flavors.
I need more to live.
I eat until I become mad.
Again and again,
even if it's bad, even if it's poisoned.
I eat again and again and again and again
my bones, charred and brittle,
scream underneath my weight.
dark. it's so dark in here.
my heart, licked by the sudden flames,
threatens to burst.
ashes fill my shriveled lungs.
my skin, branded for all to see,
itches and burns.
water. i need water.
please.
help me.
it's sickening the hold you still have on me
when you're nothing but
a rotting corpse,
an empty sack of flesh,
decaying
in the dirt
beneath my feet.
yet i still find myself
trying to limit the mess my ashes make when i burn
trying to quiet my screams as i drown
trying to decide how much i can bleed before i stain the carpet
all because of the lessons i learned
from you.
it's sickening.
Eyes closed, I lie on my back
Following their arms mentally
As the masseurs run their fingers
Pressing, squeezing, rubbing in
The warm oil all over me.
From the sole of my feet, up
Through the ankles, calves, knees
And thighs, passing deftly
My privates and up to the torso
My hairy, broad chest, shoulders
And the nape of my neck.
The loincloth barely leaves me clothed.
As the masseur's fingers and then the pouch
Filled with medicinal leaves soaked in starchy fluid
Spread warmth all over me,
I wonder if I might get an erection;
i want to tell you everything
without you being afraid
or judging me
i want to mention how
my hair is falling out
how my clothes fit a little looser
how my parents told me that they love me a little less everyday
how it's getting bad again
but i can't.
Depression.
Something so strong
But yet so weak at the same time.
It weighs you down.
It holds you back.
It feels...
It feels like a dead body.
Like carrying a dead body
On your shoulders
Everyday.
It occupies your time
You don't want to eat
You can't sleep
Hard to breath.
Maybe you're the dead body.
Maybe you're
There are so many things I have to say
But my body is a cage
I dropped them off along the way
And called myself a sage
I really wish I could have stayed
Or waited just a little while
But I'm frivolous
Ostentatious
Presumptuous
Sick
I'm going to be sick
The scars cover my body
Not a single blank space left
They keep ripping themselves open
I scream for help
But no one else can see them
The half empty bottle of water sits just an inch away
No matter how far I reach, I am not close enough
My throat is starting to fall apart
The pieces lying scattered about me like I'm some sort of broken porcelain doll
I have tried my best here
But my best isn't good enough for you
You, who have taken things from me
You, who took the thoughts from my mind
And the words from my mouth
Now I find myself, dehydrated and bleeding, waiting for you
You took and yet I still expect you to give
love hate
begin from the same
dismay
a breath of solitude
the countries
that fall apart
in a wanton breaking
of pairs
we should fall
further
in the sweet act
of lesion
the fingers loosening
the legs awake
moving
the eyes
Yea! Yea! HAVE I FORGOTTEN BEAUTY?
The five petalled white cherry blossom
tinged with pink -- and the yellow stamen?
NAY:
I have become engrossed
with thy perfect body!
The length of your legs.
The solidity of your thighs.
The brightness of your eyes.
Your fingers. Hands.
BIG SIMPLE IDEAS
in
the
BOOK OF FLESH.
I'm a scholar.
Faint scent of pussywillows
I wanted to go into the sun
where it was warm and could be warm
inside too, your face is the same and not.
You told me
to the music of the gaunt men playing ball and
the women walking slowly and the monkey hanging from the old tree
You told me
You were born with crooked legs sleeping in braces
and always straight, that later
you couldn't sleep any other way, the blood
the pain
and no climax and no climax, what do you call it
you said
never reaching orgasm.
I thought of the blame of your parents
which is the blame of society