Insecurity?

Scarcity feeds bloating;

it spews poison through yellow bites.

My focus has never been more focused,

nor has a silent distress been felt with such intensity.

Days are busy, but not quite enough.

There is a blaring ring, high pitched,

in the five seconds when the atmosphere is still.

and loud in an unusual frequency.

Only one pair of ears heard it.

Echoed within the twisted shell of a chest. Internalized in a thick fog soup

There is no way to tell what is real. The mirror, your eyes, and mine all lie.

I take capsules to deflect your tendencies, wicked, ugly, lurking beast.

Dreams pin me by two-and-a-half inch wrists at night,

as my stomach digests; my eyes bulge, my jaw drops,

and with a jolt, I spit you out: acid.