typing aloud of my disordered
relationship with food
resisting
the urge to instantly delete,
to password protect,
to put away.
letting go of cracked concrete walls
watching them fall
exposing me naked
shiny new & sulfuric
without any skin.
denial makes me terrified
of the truth inside;
as i peel down the layers of my onion soul
thin filmy layers of purple paper roll up & get stuck
beneath my fingernails.
i’ve half-shopped
these supermarket mind aisles before & i
know the stench will stain
half-regretting that
my hands will smell like mental poison for the next
two weeks
straight.
dancingindarkrooms 