One full bowl of chilli, at least two dozen saltines, one hot dog, and two handfuls of chips later, I vow not to eat tomorrow. I had two small chicken tenders and a bottle of carbonated orange juice at lunch, and half an hour later I was hunched over in a bathroom stall and my mouth tasted of stomach acid and regret. I ate once yesterday and the same thing happened. I know it's unhealthy, I know it can **** me, but all the same the only thing on my mind is how much I regret eating so much. I know it's unhealthy, I know it can **** me, but all the same I find a strange sort of comfort in knowing that I'm at least strong enough to control my appetite. I know it's unhealthy, I know it can **** me, but all the same I can't get enough of this self-hatred spilling out of my mouth, tinted with the taste of last hour's meal.
I have no idea why I'm suddenly publishing so many **** poems about this.