Waking up two or three times in the hollow silence
Nightmares of consumption and butter
Forcing a body-my body out of bed–
To hit 400 on a machine-
For the sake of an apple.
Pouring sweetened acid down a throat- my throat
More than a few times a day, I am burning
Hands shaking, shovelling
Green leafy things down my stomach in anxiety,
An illusion of health and clear skin.
Running away, I am- I am all alone
Unable to focus, unable to concentrate,
I’m self-destructing, headed straight for:
The brick house, the freight train
Tired but hollow, stitched but mangled
Every classroom left high- and dry
Running away, I am scared
Seemingly no way out now
Plunge! and crash- the teardrops are falling
No one here to catch them now.