heads living on bodies

”im not hungry” , says the stomach
the stretch of the esophagus is in yoga practice with my stomach lining
instead of dining 
there is immense thirst
often for fine wine
which feels like kisses past my tonsils
red, stains my lips
 the esophagus is always in yoga practice  

“ there is simply stilness”– 
EMPTINESS 
In the brain
which notes hallow echo from below
It is a library  i like to keep filling
 but the stomach, my temple
does not enjoy the smuggle of what the brain believes to be healthy.
brain rewards
unlike the tempered growl, gnaw of a flaxen stomach lining, singing its sting to sleep 

“Come to your senses” Says mind, says age, says textbook, says selflove guidelines, says mother, says doctor says friend

“Come to your senses” says red wine lips
says lover
says trash can
says bruised knuckle bone
says old photo

Notice how the sickness doesnt heal, it just gets better at recognizing it is sick

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My community
My country
Our world

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