whole

my soul is hungry so i eat my own love

i cook up my frustration, season my sadness then serve it up on a nice china plate of loneliness. it’s an incestuous cycle.

i chop up every little piece of me that i can and ingest myself again and again; it’s an endless cycle.

my mind feels so empty so i prepare all of me – my nerves, my brain, my thoughts – and i consume myself again and again.

my heart is malnourished so i regurgitate the unrequited love that i swallowed and chew on the cud of that bitter pill till i quell my deficiency.

my body feels drained so i mix up a cocktail of my blood and some green and in the moment, it tastes kinda sweet. but i drink myself up and i’m still left to wonder

when will i ever feel whole

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