they say everyone has a personal hell on earth
will you laugh if I tell you mine is a bathroom
because the peeling white wall and concrete floor
close in and whisper “more more more more”
as I shove a plastic spoon down my throat
salad, carrots and humus, cheerios
unplanned nibbles and a full stomach
send me down the stairs into the quiet empty room
where the window is blurred
just like my eyes
as they fill while I empty
“these are the depths”
I tell myself
this is the place where I find new lows
and just when I think I finally reached rock bottom
the toilet responds with a shovel
“keep digging”
an empty stomach and dead eyes
smiling but only my mouth muscles twitch
an odd sensation, an odd response to the compliment
“you’ve lost weight!”
I am more naked in this prison
than I ever am undressed with nameless boys and forgotten faces
as *** replaces carbs
and more “friends” like my photos on facebook
because I never have to sleep alone
but one minute in my Siberia feels like lifetimes of solitude
that no gently touch
or quick ****
can ever compensate for
where is the key that lets me out?
I’ve searched my esophagus but it only leaves me with ****** noses
it must be somewhere else inside of me
unrelated to the number on the back of my jeans
for I feel it in me
something is telling me to stop
it’s like a lump of innate love
that shakes its head every time I bend over
the demons (my demons) are drowning my mom’s voice
“I pray it gets better” she cries over the phone
but your rosary beads are choking me
because there is no God in this incandescent purgatory
but sometimes
I see myself reflected in the shallow water
which reminds me that I am more
than what I contribute to the sewer system
I leave the bathroom still searching for the light
at the far, far end of the tunnel