i wake up not wanting the food my stomach calls for
i go to lunch only to play will the fork and plate
dinner i nibble and talk just wanting to feel something real, like the hunger i have gotten so used to

as a child i would stuff my face with all the sweets in the world
loving the sugar coating of a cookie

now the bitter coffee down my throat is all i want
the heat of the cup on my sweaty hands
the aftertaste of my breath

the empty of my stomach being the only thing i truely feel