I feed the hollow,
Hard, heavy pit within,
Yet all that I swallow,
Doesn't fill, doesn't ****
Doesn't keep the feelings in.
.
But still I eat.
Frenzied, fast: a furtive game,
Mad dash, a clock to beat.
To shove it down---dark and deep.
All the guilt and all of the shame.
.
'Til at last, how it aches
Bloated, bleary.  A greasy feast.
A carnage of boxes of candy and cakes.
But the void has been silenced.
Numb now, this sleeping beast.