
A poem pieced together from things I wrote in my absolute raving craziest moments, carefully edited and re-arranged into a neat little explanation as to why I'd rather be fat instead of conventionally attractive and insane
Rated: Fiction M - English - Words: 164 - Reviews: 1 - Published: 04-12-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3012941
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Why Anxiety Makes Me Fat
When the serpent is waiting to break the ocean surface
and the anticipation is paralysing.
It's kind of terror that makes the heart beat faster,
and impossible to be still in body or thought.
I pick a poison,
Let that consume me instead.
Eat my food with my fingers,
And pour the bottle over my head.
Let the smoke curl into every last inch of my lungs.
Because when it emerges from the darkest depths
Not even hunger can stir me from the foetal nest.
To beat the sickness I become the disease.
So that's why I indulge and take everything.
And when only eating, fucking and drinking matters
Why get pretty when I can get fatter?
You can buy every last beauty product
and only realise how ugly you are inside.
Only Pain and vomit and shit remind me I'm still alive.
Maybe I'll never feel happy but at least I'll feel satisfied
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