Eat.
A punishment to the waist.
Reflections manipulate,
to edit what is mine.
Stripped out another me,
I'm sure I ate,
the biggest grain I could find.

Pray.
That I will not expand.
If the grain touches water,
material triplicates,
Where will I land?
I'm sure I prayed,
myself I would not slaughter.

Sleep.
In tiny winks through night.
Sometimes I wake to rib-cage,
sharply inhale,
as deeply as I  might.
I'm sure I slept,
On my self directed stage.

Speak.
Through thin bitten lips.
A voice growing weak,
mouth internally,
small organs it rips.
I'm sure I spoke,
my box though mild and meek.