spinach has blown
down my neck
and drifted gently
under my ribs
(i'm the salad fork carefully
rolling coffee beans
in drippy melted
warm dark chocolate)
i'm hungry but
not in the way where
my stomach growls
in the way where
i want to cry
but i've got to keep my
$20 teeth fresh and
minty at all times
the mirror
is broken
cracked in so many places
i'm more jagged lines than person
a mosaic of pieces that don't match
and parts i don't like
the truth is i
am flawed
and i will always
be flawed
and i may never
stop looking in
a broken mirror
wishing to smash
my body on its
sharpest edges
but i'm slipping
into a comatose
state of control
and loathing
(the more dead i get
the more alive i look)
when will i snap
out of this
when will i snap
out of this
(I DON'T WANT TO
SNAP OUT OF THIS
I DON'T WANT TO
SNAP OUT OF THIS)
stir the greens
rip the chicken
orange stings
the minty sores
chew chew chew
chew chew chew
chew chew chew
chew chew chew
chew chew chew
chew chew chew
chew chew chew
chew chew chew
chew chew chew
chew chew chew
swallow
take a bite
leave a bite
too much
too little
still hungry
always hungry
but it will all feel better
another ten pounds down
Copyright 6/3/17 by B. E. McComb