I eat until my chest hurts
ignoring the fact my acidic heart  
wills, calls, shouts for me to stop (hurting)
myself

For I know once the sweet oozing gold runs down my throat and
calms the feelings of an anxiety disorder,
it will quickly strike to a halt
and evaporates as quickly as it came
turning gold to rust;
and comfort pain.


It leaves me more bruised, battered and empty
(this is high class gluttony)

than when I cut my fingers from unwrapping the packaging.

yet

the void remains unfilled
and I'm no longer happy

©Rebekah Lazarus 2014