Bulimia

The more fat-filled shit you shovel in your pie-hole, the less it hurts.

Shove it all down your throat until you can hold no more.

Feel the warmth of your filled stomach.

It expands farther than normal.

You are full.

Until you realize

You filled up your empty spaces and…

They’re still empty.

Nothing has changed but the needle on the scale.

You realize what you’ve done.

The horror you have put your body through.

Puke it up.

PUKE. IT. UP.

Fill the sewage with your mistakes and your woes.

Twinkies, Ding-Dongs, Hershey bars fill your toilet bowl.

Relief.

Empty.

Satisfied.

Repeat.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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