Feast On Famine

I bless the ache,

Make a ritual of restraint.

Tell myself that emptiness

Is a kind of power.

I pray with locked jaws,

Bite back the want

Until it dissolves

On my tongue.

I make bargains

With mirrors-

Half-truths

And soft lies.

If I shrink enough

Maybe I'll vanish

Into something beautiful.

I skip meals

Like skipping stones-

Waiting to sink,

But floating

Just long enough

To try again.

I crave silence.

Control.

Clean hands.

An exit

From the noise.

The emptiness

Feels so good to me.

It's the only thing

That makes sense anymore.

The heaviness

Feels like home to me.

It's a hollow wound

I cauterize.