the rock never never tips over
my breath evens out
soft dirt digs under fingernails
"eat or be eaten"
so eat me, i beg you
it's too much - the eating the living the starving the needing
my teeth remember what it was like to tear into raw flesh millenniums ago but my hand reaches for the candy bar on the middle shelf
eat me and digest me, i'll relieve my burden of need onto you
the cycle of flesh is no longer instinctual
eating now is five different lists and seven different websites
- junk food on sale, rotting vegetables in your fridge
eat me and consume me, i'll take your god and find it's hunger
crawl alongside it's tongue down to it's stomach get digested transformed destroyed into something greater than the sum of all my parts
my hand reaches for the candy bar on the middle shelf
I hope for it, consciously, shamefully
Yet I tell you of it like a dream
Obscuring my wants by the trackless haze of subconsciousness
So much of me is defined by desire. By hunger. I’ve lost sense whether I hunger for flesh or mind. For mouthfuls or arms full of another. It hurts all the same - to yearn for the steak and to yearn for creation.
and something is always left unsaid, a corner of my heart that i forgot to sweep
the worm started its meal with my ovaries. then it moved on to my stomach, liver, lungs. it takes so little time before this body is nothing but a worm holding the shape of a girl. i become the parasyte masquerading as a dead alive girl.
I see -you/him/attractive body/attractive man/it- and greed overtakes me: be defined by me.
juice squirts
and stains my shirt
our laugh fills the kitchen
heartbeat
warm shoulder
echoes of clashing metal
and all i wanna see is a stretched out hand
wanna know the lines of your palm
spy from the corner of my mind
and slither your way through
so I won’t have to open the door
exhibitionist in search of a voyeur
I want to show proof - wipe blood on my palm, uncover my bone, skin myself open - solidify my pain into bite sized pieces.
There is an itch in my throat, I cough.
“You must be sick!”
I close my eyes at 3 am and lean on a shoulder when it’s bright out.
“You are so sick, poor you.”
I have too many layers on, my cheeks rush red.
“Sick! Sick! Sick!”
My eyes follow the shine of an earring.
“Lovesick!”
and my skin feels too big for me tonight and my mouth feels too sour