The faucets in Lisbeth's bathroom leak.
She soaks up the saltwater;
Hard cotton on shea butter skin.

A lens, everyone, no one, Lisbeth
Shines fluorescence on her starving sorrow;
Examines the gnawing.
She wonders how long she can survive on her own flesh.
Does not ask for food, but for advice.
How do the rest of us do it?
Subsist on ****** thumbs and bitten tongues?

Lisbeth, we start within.
There is a black hole growing in my gut,
Born of the desperation and repression I have harbored
Since the day I broke into this world, ****** and ravenous.
The devouring is slow,
But, one day, it will swallow me whole.

They will bury me in the weeds of an abandonded corn field.
And my hunger will slowly eat the world too.
Because I was starved.
Because I was not loved.
Lisbeth, you are hungry.
Let me feed you.
I will love you.