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Arden Sep 18
I don't have an eating disorder
But
I eat one meal a day

I don't have an eating disorder
But
I cant eat more than 700 calories a day

I don't have an eating disorder
But
I have to skateboard at least 5 hours a day

I don't have an eating disorder
But
If I don't know how many calories is in something I can't eat it
acacia Aug 15
I am pleased
Took the chance, life will roll subsequently
Nothing here and now is ever new
Rolling endlessly down and up on a racetrack
Nothing I say can ever appease you
You must feel the hunger for yourself
Let yourself starve, I fill my nose with incense
I invoke my lover every time
Made a pros and cons list, then read the wheel: transit Venus quincunx natal Moon
A time where action must play
A time where you must decide before the scale tips-ips

Jupiter still amusingly sits in my 7th house, snickering away. I hold Saturn’s hand, I wave away illusions: Jupiter holds my other hand, Jupiter clears a sunny path of luck: love, luck, love, luck. Mars, here I am, send me! Send me. I’ll move through your horizons real gracefully. I’ve passed my test, what greater gift could there be(?), Mars (?),

here I am, send me! Send me.

I am: a day-born bird, a small young worm, am learning new, perched upon dew; I self-repair, I turn to you: My Diurnal King, my strength renew.
God, help me always know your love is greater than my heart:

yu grab yer book i hope itz good
you play music, I hope it’s good
The past-long days, I hope they’re good:
I swim I swim I swim (pause) I swim
Nigdaw Jul 2
A window seat at the end of the universe;
To watch planets collide, stars die
Black holes swallow light
Until nothing is left but a darkness,
Darker than the darkest night
Where not even a man made bulb, can penetrate.


While we sip champagne and fine wines
Dine on the tenderest meats of the earth,
Music worthy of the show outside plays
But still we can talk, almost telepathically.


So many times we had thought
We were at the end of our universe,
As our worlds collided, two stars died
Our light swallowed into a black hole
Where not even our love could penetrate.


No sweet music accompanied us
But there was the constant din of life,
Which always prevented us talking
Distracting us from our love of each other
Leaving nothing to talk about.


So before we die, when we are old
And have survived all this world,
Can throw at us;
I want to book a table for two
At the end of the universe.
shamamama Apr 27
Hungry.

In the silence,
of this afternoon,
they arrive, ready
to feed children who wait
in nest high above.
Their high whistle dancing,
pierces the soundscape
These mejiros--yellow with sharp white eyes,
Comb through hibiscus bush
Finding a meal
Hidden within
Like  parrotfish
Munching through coral reef,

I sit under tree listening,

Abruptly
The seashells to my mind
Fill with shrill sounds
Of mothers scolding monsters,
A quickening--
Their white eyes dart like fearful
squid flying through
brushy undercurrents.
Underneath,
The small lion cat
Stalks the
Hungry sounds
In the bush

the Hungry looking for Hungry
Mejiros fill the landscape here, they are active feeders and singers of this tropical landscape.  I played with metaphors from the land and from the sea--reflecting on Hawaiians who match something from the earth and something from the sea.
Maia Vasconez Jan 26
I keep thinking about the night
he sat across from me
ripping into a pomegranate
with his hands but
I couldn’t stop seeing it as
a bleeding heart.

He put his lips on
My lips but
It just felt like he was trying to eat me.
Star BG Jan 17
I eat poetic words for breakfast
and spit out poetry.
I let my coffee jump start my day.
with muffin dipped in
waves of verse.

After eating lunch,
consisting of a jargon filled sandwich.
I start again writing from a full stomach,
as dust revels itself on banks of sky.
What happens when writing on an empty stomach. LOL
One of the best feelings
The first bite of my favorite meal.
It's hard to decide if it's hunger
Or anticipation.
All of this savored in smile.
The spice of salt, pepper among things
The aroma coming from plate to spoon,
The simplicity of it all.
I live for this feeling,
This warm cozy feeling,
A tight hug from meal to lips.
Theres no better feeling.
Tight hugs
Followed by her kisses
I saw the story of creation unfold before my face,
voices of masses screaming vows before the lord.

like the last meal, this is how the end began.

With words like stones exchanged between families in a divorce court.
Stanley Wilkin Dec 2018
Silently, shadowed by night,
Its eyes shining like tears,
It pads through the desolated undergrowth
Listening for sounds in the grass
The tripping of feet, the scampering
Crunch of paws. Lithely stepping
Through the trees, a mile further on
The fox sniffs the air. The stubbled moon
Flings down its steel-like shafts
Of thin even light, stabbing through
The gloom.

The stream flows around the dying plants
Breaking the bank. The River Vole slides down
Into the labouring water, older than the
Landscape it bites through, and it pounces
Grabbing the voles neck in its maw,
Ripping the flesh apart. The cat throws
It into the air, catching it again,
Its teeth rending off flesh. It pads back into the dark.

Nose delving into the air , the fox sniffs blood.
It turns towards the water
Breaking the bank, turns towards
Its slow sibilant sound, muzzle aloft
As if drawn upward by slithers of string,
The playful moon moving smoothly with the clouds.
The cat is shaken by its presence.
The grouse gabble in their fear.

The fox pounces, caught in the air
Floating as if in a snapshot
Held there by silvery light,
It lands with untroubled finesse
As the cat screams.
The stream blanches, the moon seems smug,
The night closes as the fox eats.
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