How delightful, wonderful, beautiful.

Sensuous and pleasurable.

Such a strange longing we have

For such small objects.

Actually, it's not strange at all.

Sensuous and pleasurable,


Artfully and intricately made.

I crave.


Sometimes I wonder:

Is it too much?


Others see me and they tell me,

What is wrong with you?

At least,

That’s what they’re thinking.

I know.


I know why they’re thinking this.

Look at me.

What has happened?

Up and down I go,

Big to small, small to big.

Too small, too big.


Is it really the food?


It’s me that’s the issue.


Waking up, I feel myself spill off the bed,

Stomping on the floor, feet aching

Everything quakes as I walk.

My eyelids are heavy,

The weight of the world succumbs me

A monster rests in my stomach.


I stand naked, looking in the mirror.


Too much there;

I want to disappear.

My clothes don’t fit.

Each day it gets worse.


I don’t want to walk;

It’s embarrassing.

I don’t want to stand or sit;

It’s embarrassing.

Even sleeping

Is embarrassing.


Tides of skin

Roll over each other;

The roundness is defined;

It’ll never go away.






Is digging a grave

For me.


My stomach aches today.

Is it really my stomach though?


It’s my heart that hurts.

I’m tired.





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