​EATING

I bite, I chew, I tear, at my own flesh. It’s disgusting. But the penny scented scarlet drops, give me a dopamine rush.

It really is disgusting. However, everytime I pick off another layer of my skin, I think about why I do it.

Because it comforts me. It reminds me that I’m alive. I’m purifying myself as I rid myself of the old flesh.

I want to stop although I doubt there’s enough bandaids in the world to help me kick this habit. I’d probably peel them off with the same glee I do my flesh.

Rarely do I ever consume the flesh of my limbs it hardens much to quick and its presentation is repulsive.

The taste of the skin of my lips the only exception. The skin soft like a spiderweb. I know what I look like, when I engage in these behaviors publicly.

I don’t expect people to ask me why my finger tips are bleeding or why my mouth looks like it’s falling off.

As saying I’m hungry and scared, doesn’t seem like a reasonable answer.

I hope I stop partaking in this ritual soon. I know the concern I caused and it isn’t kind. I really do.

It’s just the hunger. It always comes for me at my lowest. And what can I do?

Eat