The Hell Butterfly

Eat, Sleep, Repeat

Food makes me hate myself.

Through sleep-crusted eyes I wake every morning and remember

that I must eat breakfast.

It is 08:33 and I’ve already woken once and fallen back to sleep

partly because I know that I must eat today

and I don’t want to.

I wonder what “breakfast” really is.

The first half hour of my day is spent

poring over memories of what I had the day before

so that I can find inspiration for the morsels I must end my hunger with.

I can’t remember if I even ate breakfast yesterday.

Walls in my brain erected from thoughts of eggs on toast,

cities built in seconds,

cement paste measured from

two parts breadcrumbs, one part tears.

It takes a lot of work to knock this network down

and in doing so force open the hinges of my jaw

to allow food in against my better judgement.

Two rows of white knights standing ready marching in a rhythmic beat

in time to up and down as mastication transforms bacon pieces into guilt.

Maple-glazed disgust dissolving in the chaos of a bite-sized slaughterhouse.

The Unholy Trinity of Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner

make the walls of my castle tremble.

Take their name in vain and–

UNDESERVING.

GREEDY.

SHAMEFUL.

–they will eat you alive.

I find Hell in streaks of ketchup,

traces of my sins in upset stomachs caused

by eating three whole meals in a day.

I wash myself clean but I can still feel oil in my pores and as I scrub

I shed a layer of my skin but I can still feel the salt in my veins

and I scrub harder still until I’ve carved away enough to expose my bones and then…

…and then…

My friends ask why I cover up my mirrors.

I tell them that I’m superstitious.

Purple shame hangs heavy under eyes that can’t and won’t make contact with their own reflection,

afraid of what they might see staring back at them.

I’m terrified of laughing in front of people because,

when I laugh for real, my teeth reveal secret snacks snuck in

when nobody is watching.

I live in a nightmare woven from threads of my sanity.

I am a slave to food.

When I wake up I think of food.

At breakfast I think of food.

Before lunch, food.

Lunch, food.

Snacks food dinner food

dessert food food food

fucking food fat fat fucking fat!

I fell in love with the pangs that struck me

hard inside my abdomen.

I guess I’m just waiting for it to break my heart.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s