Stuffed and Still Starving
I ate the whole box
chased it with cheap beer and a handful of candy like painkillers for a wound I cannot point at on a scan
Sat there sweating through my shirt
heart beating like a fucking drumline in a can
Phone in my hand, nobody texting back
just ads telling me to buy more shit to fill the ache
So I ordered delivery I did not need
just to see a human face at the gate.
I pile food on my plate like a sandbag wall against the flood of “you are not enough” that leaks under every door in my head
If I keep chewing, I cannot answer the calls
cannot go out, cannot be rejected again
I am busy trying not to drop dead
You call it comfort eating like it is a cute little quirk
like I am stress-snacking through a cartoon mess
This is self-defense with a fork and a credit limit at midnight.
I am stuffed, I am swollen, I am dizzy, I am sick
And still the hunger growls
What kind of fucked up math is this?
Stuffed and still starving
that is the curse written in my gut like graffiti I never asked for
I can fill my mouth with everything in reach and still feel like there is nothing in my gut
If this is gluttony then it is not just fat and fries
it is this frantic hunger for something that does not exist
And if I choke on the chase, so be it
I am done clenching my fist.
I have tried to swap the binges for “healthy habits
” smoothies, running
white-knuckling through the time I used to spend stuffing my face
But the hunger just changed flavors
moved up into my skull and started chewing on my sense of place
Soon as I slip, I dive right back into piles of food
teeth first, like a starving wolf let off the chain
Because nobody taught me how to feel without either starving or drowning in the rain.
I get that this is ugly
I get that this is not some badass metal poster with abs and rage and fire on the page
This is me on my kitchen floor at 2 a.m. covered in crumbs
crying, sweating, and swallowing my own shame and rage
If that is not rock enough for you, fuck it
go write songs about heroes and clean lines
I will write about the war between my ribs
Where every snack is a landmine.
Stuffed and still starving
that is the curse written in my gut like graffiti I never asked for
I can fill my mouth with everything in reach and still feel like there is nothing in my gut
If this is gluttony then it is not just fat and fries
it is this frantic hunger for something that does not exist
And if I choke on the chase, so be it
I am done clenching my fist.
When they weigh my body and shake their heads at the numbers on the sheet
They will never see the years of empty I tried and failed to eat. They will gossip about the choices
about the forks and the bags and the drive-through light
Never the nights I sat alone in the kitchen trying to chew through a silent fight
They will slap a label on my coffin like a warning sign for kids who might go too far
But all it really means is I was starving from the inside out And this was my last way to gnaw at the bars.