Fat never bleeds
I went for a walk last night. The cold stinging my eyes, the wind blowing through my shirt against my aching ribs. How the sleeping miss out on the beauty of a star-covered, endless sky. I keep walking. Waiting for sunrise, a pink stain on the horizon. Waiting. I lose myself so easily in this emptiness. But that's not why I went walking. I wish I could say that. But no:
To burn calories.
The sad, pathetic truth. Oh I vomited it up. But that isn't good enough, is it? You fat bitch. 'oh forgive me i have sinned i ate a peanut butter sandwich'. Fucking ridiculous.
I wrote another poem too. I love to write when I'm lonely and numb and so very empty and sad.
Collect the blades
the metallic tang covering your fingers
as you hand slips -
superficial cuts always did bleed most
But save it, my dear
for sweet playtime under the covers.
Save it for the time he forced his salty cock
down your throat, and you
(slightly bemused)
vomited it up again and again and again
in shuddering, acid heaves of passion
To burn calories.
The sad, pathetic truth. Oh I vomited it up. But that isn't good enough, is it? You fat bitch. 'oh forgive me i have sinned i ate a peanut butter sandwich'. Fucking ridiculous.
I wrote another poem too. I love to write when I'm lonely and numb and so very empty and sad.
Collect the blades
the metallic tang covering your fingers
as you hand slips -
superficial cuts always did bleed most
But save it, my dear
for sweet playtime under the covers.
Save it for the time he forced his salty cock
down your throat, and you
(slightly bemused)
vomited it up again and again and again
in shuddering, acid heaves of passion