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
