I am starving.
Famished, even—
Yet, I cannot consume anything but the sorrow
Nestled within the corners of my room
That made my body it's home.
Now, I am helplessly lying on my bed
As my head throbbed
From the brewing tempest
That squeezed my heart dry
Until it forgets how to ache.
My core is empty, but it still bulges
And it stares back at my reflection
Marveling in all of its hediousness.
So, I punish it
Until the hunger grew claws—
Until the same embers burning within an empty womb
Learns how to scratch my throat raw
And render me helpless to my own judgement.
I am thirsty
But hunger pushes back
Until nothing but misery
Pours out of every crevice of my being
And pool beneath my feet just to swallow me whole.
Now, my eyes aches to see
Throbbing with the familiar pain
Of keeping them open for so long.
So long that I turned blind to the truth—
I turned into a fool who must be whipped
In order to wake up.
But waking up is only for those
Who have felt peaceful enough to fall asleep.