My mother calls me her dearest,
Kisses my hand and squeezes it gently.
She swears I’m surviving solely on her prayers
Because she’s not convinced there’s a quarter of enough food in my body
Not with all the hollowness in my collarbones
I have hit a roadblock in trying to use language to navigate my feelings
The same words that paves way, stands in my way
How do I distract myself from myself in order to free myself?
How do I use language against itself?
What comes after I have puked out the last sentence of distress?
Mother said to eat a little more
For Will shall take to Strength’s heels
So I buy time with unbalanced paragraphs and reluctant doodles,
Wait for the pressure that sparks the gag reflex
So I can vomit it all out.