Hungering for life

My first experience with pain, and how I deal with it even today. Share your own!

It all began one Thanksgiving

When little 12-year-old me saw

A slavering, ravenous mob of

Loved ones shoving ripping and tearing

The turkey apart to satisfy their cravings,

Gravy oozing unnoticed down their necks

and small vicious stabs of utensils into their 

stationary prey, and the look of relief,

of unearned ecstasy plastered over their faces.

How easy it was to hate them.

How easy is still is.

They tell me I'm the one who's sick

But they don't know that their addiction

is killing them every, single, day. 

My way is the only one I know of that kills slower

that's why I don't eat: I consume.

And I do it on my own terms. 

Many have tried to break me of this

But I've had more success breaking them.

Some have even joined my anorexic revolution

And I hope you will do the same.

Join the welcoming vortex of screaming rejoicing


The End

2 comments about this poem Feed