Day: Feb 9, 2020

It’s been eighteen months since I’ve touched a scale to deal with the itch.

For full seventeen months I haven’t been called a righteous bitch.

Weighing myself is still a daily task for me though, don’t be blinded,

The things I get done feel like nothing and I start getting winded.

The constant rush to be leading is leaving me shattered in the evenings

But now the broken mirrors won’t really reflect what I’m eating.

There are pros and cons for having a hunger, and that’s a fact.

No matter the hunger, at the end of the day you feel like you’ve signed a pact.

Some mornings my life’s hanging on a string by the arête

As they’re stealing my ideas, copyrighted with blood on the concrete.

Some nightmares wake me quicker than seeing my bile in the drain

And I keep reminding myself that the self-pity has died in vain.

I have changed. It is not the same.

***

It’s been one billion little lies later. My brain has gone quiet.

I’m not wanting to diet but it’s not a riot.

I’m ready to pave a way, striate.

-JW